Through the Well of Pirene
by Ether Echoes
Summary: Daphne has tried to live her life as any normal teenage girl would, focusing on school and the intricacies of adolescent life in an effort to forget her more imaginative childhood. Now, however, her kid sister has been kidnapped by forces she cannot understand, and she is forced to give chase into a land she had once thought only make-believe.
1. Chapter 1 - The Forest Ways

**Through the Well of Pirene**

Chapter 1: The Forest Ways

"**And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer." Revelations 6:2**

**Daphne**

That had been the worst day of my life.

There had been such high hopes for it, but come mid-afternoon, my plans had been soundly crushed. As I stared out the kitchen window at the falling red and gold leaves of a warm Massachusetts autumn carpeting the street, the stultifying confinement of the house closed in. I could easily imagine my friends being driven to the mall, where they would have an absolutely fantastic time without me.

"Did you hear me, young lady?" Father asked in what he clearly believed to be a tone of patient authority. It sounded more peevish and moody to me. I glanced over at him, but he hadn't bothered to look up from his paper. I chose to interpret the President's stern face glaring out from the front page at me as my father's own for the time being.

"Yes, _Dad_," I answered. The paper crinkled in what must have been a spasm of irritation.

"What did I say?" he insisted.

Listening to the television with most of my attention made my answer half-hearted. "You want me to do stuff with Amelia today."

"I don't just want you to _do stuff_, Daphne. Your mother and I want you to watch over her tonight."

Any hope I had for tonight's plans with my friends to undergo a rebirth and resurrection shriveled up inside me. "For how long?"

"All night."

I had already imagined my plans as a crumpled list sitting on the table. Now, they had burst into flames, instantly turning to ash. Sucking in a breath through grit teeth, I calmed myself before putting on my best wheedling face. I turned towards the paper, opening my mouth to address my appeal to the President of the United States.

"Don't bother, I can't see the puppy dog eyes." He sighed—the paper shuffling sounded a bit like a sigh, too, for that matter. "Look, it won't kill you to sit for your baby sister for one day."

"But _Daddy_, what if it does?" I tried anyway. You can't fault a girl for trying.

"It'll make for interesting funeral conversation."

"Dad!" The very idea was offensive. I pivoted, however, crossing my arms and countering with, "I should at least get something if I'm going to be stuck here all day. Babysitter rates."

"If I wanted to pay for a babysitter I'd _hire_ a babysitter. Half."

"Three-fourths."

"_Half_," he said, with a note of finality. That suited me just fine—he had forgotten to negotiate what the original pay rate actually was, and when he was tired after a long day out with Mother I'd be able to drive a harder bargain. Small comfort for missing the day with my friends; at least I'd have money for tomorrow.

"Deal," I agreed, perking up with a bright smile. "Now, where is Amelia?"

Almost as if on cue, I heard the front door slam.

"Speak of the devil..." Father said. Small feet pounded along the floor.

I turned in time to catch a muddy bundle composed chiefly of a pair of pink sneakers, a messy blond braid, and soiled clothing as it barreled into me at twice the speed of sound. I yelped at the impact and fell to the floor.

"...And she shall appear," Mother finished the phrase for him, her own blond hair in disarray as she half-slumped in the doorframe leading to the porch. There were more important things on my mind, though.

"Amy!" I growled from the floor, trying to fend her off. It was like trying to push a friendly squid away, for she seemed to have three-to-four times as many arms as she ought to. "You little rat, you got my new jacket all muddy!"

"_You're_ a rat, and your jacket is dumb, anyway. It barely covers anything!" She beamed at me with a toothy grin. "We're going to play today!"

Snarling at her insult to my fashion sense or trying to strangle her would only get me in trouble at this point, so I settled for grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her still while I stood up.

"We are _not_," I said, firmly, establishing my ground rules—or to be more accurate, my dominance—before it got any worse, "going to play today. _You_ are going to sit —quietly—or play on your own—quietly—while I do something productive. Like watch TV or call up my friends."

Amelia's face changed from beaming to hurt to cross to enraged so quickly I could almost marvel at her changeling-like variability. It was like she had a superpower for gear-shifting emotions. "Daph_ne_!" she protested, stamping a muddy foot. "That's no fair! Mom promised we'd get to play today!"

"Well, it's high time you learned that life isn't fair," I answered, a bit tartly, but I felt entitled to it. "Besides, Mom and Dad won't be here, so that means it's my rules."

"You and I need to have a talk sometime, young lady," Father said. I could just make out the top of his black hair from behind the paper.

Mother was more direct, going over to put her hands around her messy younger daughter. "Now, Amelia, don't you throw a fit or Mommy is going to be very cross," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. My sister stuffed her complaint, pouting with cheeks full. "Daphne?" Mother asked, lifting her own gaze to me. "Please. _Play_ with your sister."

"But _Mom_," I protested. I didn't bother with the wheedling face; it never worked on her anyway.

"Just take her outside, go on a walk," she almost pleaded. Mother never really pleaded with her daughters, of course, but it wasn't a command _yet_.

"_Outside_?" I grimaced, looking out at the warm autumn sky. It was so disgustingly wholesome and breezy. I might catch a lethal case of Ralph Waldo Emerson and start waxing poetically about fall colors and still forest pools if I went out there.

"You used to love going outdoors!" Mother complained. "All those nature walks as a girl, the trips with your cousins. I loved reading what you wrote about them."

My mind flashed involuntarily to my bedroom, to a worn leather satchel in the closet. Buried within it was a girl's diary, which pulsed like the heart of a vile, nameless god. I shuddered. "That was _then_, Mom; I was, like, _five_."

Father rustled his papers as he turned another page, chuckling. "More like eight or nine. You came home dirty as much as Amelia does. Whatever happened to that messy girl we had?"

"_Boys_ happened," Mother lamented, sighing. She took Amelia's backpack from around her shoulders and began to arrange the contents on the kitchen table with a mother's distracted efficiency, though she knew Amelia would have handled it herself given the time.

"Ugh!" I griped, throwing my hands up. "Ugh!" I added again, for good measure. "Fine, I'll do it, but _only_ if it gets me out of this conversation!" Before they could thank me—or scold me, or whatever it was they were planning—I marched into the front room and exchanged my fashionable jacket for one that would keep off the weather when it turned cold tonight. I slipped off my platform shoes and put on a pair of sensible tennis shoes. Amelia materialized at my side with a small bag, a magnifying lens and a book of local insects poking out of one end.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" I called, pushing the door open. I pulled my cell phone off of its charger before stepping outside, hoping I would be able to find some coverage out in the park. The phone was placed into my purse along with the utterly vital compact I kept for such emergencies. Wouldn't do to meet a handsome hiker unprepared.

"Bye, honey!" Mother called, leaning out of the window as we walked by. I began pulling my hair into a ponytail while Amelia practically skipped along behind me. "Have fun!"

"Yeah," I called back, peering up to see where we were going. Down the hill there was a short road and a stretch of town between us and a forest which had gone largely untouched by humans for over a hundred years, protected from exploitation in the early twentieth century, and nearly unused for millennia before settler and native habitation. Its canopy, bright with the colors of an autumn afternoon, whispered in the wind, as if trying to tell every passerby that, even in the days it had seen human hands, it had remained mysterious for reasons of its rough terrain and fickle weather. How I had loved that enclosed secrecy as a child, flights of fancy taking me to faraway lands filled with strange and colorful things.

"Yeah, right," I muttered again and trudged on. The sign on the side of the trailhead was largely ignored, save for a quick glance. I had seen it often enough before to know what it said:

**EVERFREE STATE PARK**

**Massachusetts State Parks & Forests**

Clear water hummed and bubbled softly below the footbridge, flowing over the smooth stones of the stream bed to expose the darting shadows of fish. I massaged a sore ankle while lifting my phone up to the light dappling through the tree cover, hoping to catch a stray signal through the holes. No dice. The bars remained firmly buried. With a groan I shoved my phone back into my purse and hitched it up, scanning the nearby trees. Spotting a bright golden head against the carpet of leaves, I started towards Amelia, careful not to slip on the mud from last night's rain. Amelia's eyes were focused intently on the brush in front of her, the entomology book open on her crouched knees while she poked at the leaves with a stick in fascination.

I expected more people to be out in a part of the woods so close to the town. The day was beautiful, too, but we were all alone. The holiday sales in town probably had something to do with it—people who weren't me were getting to hang out with their friends and get something done instead of heading out into the middle of nowhere. Evidently, my sister and I were the only ones who just had to enjoy nature today. Trying not to set my teeth too hard, I paused on an incline near her that had a view of an old gazebo, some park tables, and a long stairway up a hill that stood nearby.

An old park bench lay invitingly within reach, as well. Its worn surface was hard, yet inviting after the walk. I sat down and rubbed my ankles. The nearby hill caught my attention, and while considering the relative merits of a nap versus a hike up for a shot at better reception, I noticed Amelia had sprung up at my side. She held her hand up, and I recoiled at once when I saw the caterpillar nestled there. I made a face while the caterpillar lazily devoured the maple leaf it held and ignored us both.

Amelia only beamed harder. "Isn't it beautiful, Daph?"

Of all the things in the world to have a childish fascination with, why did it have to be _bugs_? Even when I was her age, I had found them disgusting. They had too many legs, slimy skins, squirmy segments, and oozing ichor and soulless eyes and gross hairs and all the other horrible things bugs had. I had much preferred birds, and I could still pick out a few species among the trees around us. My amateur birding days had come to a right and proper end when I had put away my books and binoculars and other silly things. At the minimum, birds eat insects, which was a point for them in my book.

"I don't care if it's going to turn into the most beautiful butterfly on the planet in an hour, you get that thing away from me _now,_" I growled, pulling my windbreaker's sleeves up over my hands to cover them and waving at my sister in an attempt to ward off the demon-thing. Maybe the climb up the hill wouldn't be such a bad choice after all.

Amelia's face fell; I knew I had disappointed her by yet again failing to enter into her world when invited. It wasn't like I was blind. She wanted to spend more time with me and hang out with her big sister. I was a kid once, too, and had looked upon my older cousins with envy and had wanted them to acknowledge me. Who seriously wants their baby sister tagging along with them everywhere, though? Didn't I have my own life to live?

"Fine," she huffed, bending down to deposit the caterpillar back on the bush. Not that the creature had cared; it had gone on pointedly ignoring both of us to continue concentrating on its meal. Amelia sprang back to her feet, once again flipping emotions like they were lines on a switchboard. "I know! We could go swimming!"

"Em, it's the middle of autumn; we'd freeze."

"Make snow men?"

I stared around with exaggerated patience before asking, "With what snow?"

"Mud men, then."

"_No_."

Amelia bounced to my other side as I turned to walk off. "We could play catch!"

I displayed my hands for her. "We didn't bring gloves or balls, Amy."

"Catch frogs?"

"No."

"Climb trees?"

"No."

"Ugh!" Amelia burst out in disgust, in a surprisingly good imitation of my outburst earlier today. "You never want to do _anything_, Daphne. You're so _boring!_" she shouted, stalking off towards the benches to sulk, her long golden braid lashing behind her like an angry tail.

Letting her run across the footbridge gave me some much appreciated peace and quiet. Starting towards the stairs leading up the hill, I turned and glowered at my sister, who was by then swinging on the worn, painted rails of the gazebo with a despondent air about her. She gave a big, dramatic sigh, probably because she knew I was looking.

I brushed a few stray hairs out of my face and chewed on my lip for a moment. When my sister flopped unmoving on her back, I muttered under my breath. If she thought that pretending to be dead would get my attention, she was crazy. Ten minutes passed before I trod back, placing my hands in my pockets and making it appear as though I was there under protest. "_Fine_, Em, have it your way. Let's play something," I said, poking her limp body with a toe.

"Yay!" Amelia cried and sprang up, revived from death at once by my concession. "Let's play a game, then! Cowgirls and Indians," she suggested at once.

"That's terribly insensitive to Native Americans, Em."

"Space invaders?"

"Again with the games we can't play without tools," I said, leaning against the gazebo's peeling frame while golden leaves swirled in the breeze around us. "And no, I won't play it with my imagination," I added when she opened her mouth.

"Hide-and-seek? Bonnie and Clyde? Harold and Maude?"

"Now you're just throwing names at me to see if I—" I paused, thinking back over what she had said. I snapped my eyes back down at her. "What was that one you just said?"

"Harold and Maude?"

"No, the other one."

"Bonnie and Clyde?"

"_No_," I snapped, my tone waspish, "the one before _that_."

"Oh!" She grinned. "Hide-and-seek! Do you want to play that?"

My own answering grin might have scared her off if she hadn't been hoping for me to acknowledge her so badly. It was something of a Cheshire smile—toothy, wide, and mildly sadistic. There were beautiful possibilities in this game. "Yes. Yes I do. In fact, _I'll_ seek and you hide."

"All right!" she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking me in the eye defiantly. "I'll bet anything you can't find me," she declared—the poor, sweet, adorable thing.

"You're probably right."

"I'll bet you a cookie you can't!"

"I'll bet you _ten_ cookies I can't."

"Da-aph!" she griped, and rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to bet if you _can_. Well, whatever, count to one hundred and let me get started!"

"Okay!" I said, with sweet poison in my tone. Turning to face the gazebo and setting myself, I glanced briefly to make sure she was running.

"No peeking!" she accused, glaring at me until I covered my eyes with an arm.

"All right," I began, and started counting loudly, with a deliberate pace. "One, two, three…"

Listening to sneakered feet darting across the wood and then over the leaf-strewn earth, I waited until I could no longer hear my sister running. "…thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…"

I risked a glance, scanning the tree line slowly.

"Thirty-five, thirty-six," I chanted, and started to creep away in the opposite direction from the one she had run, "thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

I paused. Nothing.

"And forty is good enough," I said, almost as giddy as she had been, and pumped a fist. "Yes! Freedom!"

So I looked ridiculous, but it wasn't like anyone was around to spy on me. I had seen to that. Amelia would catch on eventually, of course, but for the next two to three hours I was as good as alone. With a new spring in my step, I started to make my way up the hill, with only a pair of thrushes dancing in the air nearby to keep me company.

Warm afternoon sunlight greeted me as I began my ascent, the wind stirring my hair and the trees around me. Branches swayed and creaked, and the brush shifted with the passage of tiny animals. Without Amelia to distract me, there was nothing now between me and the natural setting I had let myself be lured into, and its rustic allure was trying to grab a hold of me once more. These woods might as well have been my backyard for how familiar they were, both here and in deeper parts where Mother and Father may not have been happy to know I had gone all on my own. It's why I didn't really feel as guilty as I should have about being so irresponsible and letting Amelia go unsupervised. After all, I had done that, and I turned out all right, didn't I?

I had kept turning up at the door skinned, bruised, and covered in sweat and dirt more often than not. Trekking from hill to dale, fording streams, I would sometimes even scream my lungs out at the birds in the sky for the sheer joy of it.

There, on top of that hill, I could almost see myself down by the river now. The old mossy log damming half of the stream below had been sturdier then, and I had walked on it every day to my adventures deeper in the woods, past the worn sign by the horse trail that cheerfully pointed the way to Boston and the crumbling fence. I shook my head, gazing the other way, towards the west, where hardwoods clustered along a rocky ridge. It took little imagination to picture shapes lurking in the brush, darting from tree to tree. Faeries and goblins of an overexcitable little girl's fancies danced at the edge of my mind, crowding to break back in. It seemed to me that I was forgetting something, and something very important to me at that. I didn't feel quite like looking at it, though, not directly, so I tried thinking about it obliquely, my eyes sweeping over the park expanse from my new vantage point, ankle pain quite forgotten.

Tension began to worm its way up my spine as, for the first time since arriving, I wasn't distracted from my own thoughts. I knew then that I probably should have refused to come here with Amelia. There had been chances to divert her. We could have gone to see a movie downtown. When she insisted on staying outdoors, I had thought of going to a horse ranch nearby, where a friend of mine lived.

Instead, I had brought her here.

Without much success, I tried to dismiss the unease I felt. This place was yesterday's news. It should have been behind me, and its hold over me should have broken already.

If that was true, however, why did I suddenly feel so very small, looking out over the trees and fields I felt were so desperately familiar? It had been nearly ten years since I had last set foot among these hills, and yet it was like opening the first page of a book I had read a thousand times. Well-worn books didn't make you tense up and dread what you might find when you turned the page, however.

Confidence in my ability to handle what memories this place might throw at me began to crumble steadily. Alarmed, I tried to think of something, anything, to distract me again and stop the train of memories before they could collide with my composure.

As it turned out, I had become so thoroughly lost in my own recollections that my phone had started to ring at least once without my noticing it. With a frenzied rush for my ringing phone, I fumbled for it in my purse and answered the call before I could check the caller display. "Hello?"

"Honey! Finally!" my mother's voice came to me, jittery with the poor signal. "I've been calling for at least twenty minutes now! Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," I answered quickly. Unnecessarily, I pulled the phone away to glance at the display, seeing that it was indeed Mother's phone. "I didn't have a signal until a minute ago."

"Of course," Mother waved it off, metaphorically. "Well, your dad and I are at the theater now; how are you two doing?"

"We're fine," I responded in that typically teenage manner guaranteed to raise hackles among most parents.

"Are you playing?" Mother, with her laser-like focus, wasn't biting.

"Yeah, we're playing hide-and-seek." It was _technically_ the truth.

"Are you hiding or seeking?"

"Seeking." I scuffed idly at a dirt-covered stone buried in the hill with a foot.

"It doesn't sound like you're seeking very hard."

"Oh please, Mom." Hardly any thought was needed for my answers. "No one knows the woods here better than I do. If she can hide from me, she can hide from anyone."

"I suppose so." She laughed. "I guess if you get lost you can always ask Leit Motif for help."

"Hah!" I responded at once in a forced laugh. It was almost like a grunt of pain rather than any gesture of amusement. I felt as if Mother had jarred my memory with a brick to the head, sending shards of teeth and thought bouncing across the mossy earth. "Leit Motif, right, Mom, funny. Hah. Ha ha hah."

"I'm almost disappointed that your sister never developed an imaginary friend of her own," she went on, oblivious to my epiphany. "You were so cute. Always coming home with stories about your little adventures."

The tiny factoid that had been prying at my brain ever since I came back to these woods had popped out with the rest of the detritus. This allowed me to examine the little sprig of information from all angles. Buried under a knot of disappointment and layers of new memories, it had been unearthed with all its sharp little edges. I was relieved to see that it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. The pain had dulled.

Leaning forward against the railing, I pulled my hair loose to let the wind catch and stir the strands. Taking a look down the hill, the wash where the creek flooded every spring caught my attention. I could almost see again two tracks in the mud, one small and sneaker-clad, the other big and many and round. "I'm glad you thought my being a complete dip was cute; real motherly of you," I replied at last, my tone a fair bit more bitter than I had intended.

I felt small and oddly tender. It was as if she had just pried open a bandage on a sensitive wound.

"We all have embarrassing little things we don't like to think about, Daphne," she said. There was a pause as she lifted the phone from her ear, talking to someone I couldn't hear clearly—Father or another patron perhaps. "Don't get so wrapped up in being a teenager that you forget to laugh at yourself."

"Nah, it's all right." I laughed it off. "I just hadn't thought about it in a long time. I'm o-over it, it's just weird. Really, I barely even think about it any more. I don't even like the woods, waste of my time."

"I understand. Well, your father and I need to take our seats now. Don't leave Amy alone for too long, all right?" she asked. "You know your sister loves you."

"Yeah, I do, even if she is a little brat," I drawled, smirking. "Bye, Mom."

"Pots and kettles, Daphne. Goodbye," she said, hanging up.

Giving my phone a glance, I tossed it back into my purse and started down the other side of the hill, wrapped in my thoughts. It _had_ been a long time since I had thought of…_ her_.

I whistled a little ditty with five bars, a rising and falling melody that would have been meaningless to anyone else. To me and my memories, it was a key turning in a latch. Deep within my mind, a vault unlocked, and a breath of air stirred dust off the contents.

Turning, I saw a small, dirty girl in overalls burst from the brush, her blond hair in a ponytail, with a garden trowel in one hand and a pot lid in the other. Little wings had been glued on to her hair band. "Hah!" she cried in triumph. "Behold, foul creature of the woods, I am Daphne, the noble Valkyrie warrior!"

Rising from the muck of the stream, covered in pond slime and gooey mud, a terrible creature opened her mouth and announced in a piping, sweet voice, "Muwahahaha! Foolish human, you have tread too far into my domain, and you shall suffer a thousand stinging deaths!" On all fours she shambled towards the tiny girl who swelled in my imagining, becoming a righteous Norse shield maiden wreathed in power, her trowel now a folded rune-blade and her pot lid a bulwark of steel and hard ebony. The four-legged, shuffling, mud-covered figure began to hum a battle theme, and soon twisted into a slime-covered troll, her forearms lengthened horribly so that she could walk on them as she slavered and snapped her jaws.

As vividly as if I were there in the past, the battle scene unfolded before me. If the details were a little off, I hardly noticed enough to care. Dreams had always been better than the real thing to a girl of that age and temperament. The titanic battle raged across the field, overturning trees and flattening hills, drying rivers and cracking bedrock.

"With my strength I smite at you, vile beast!" the Valkyrie thundered, and skewered the she-troll center mass. In truth, of course, the trowel bounced off a mud-covered flank with little noticeable impact aside from sending crusted gunk flying, but the other girl sold it as if she had received a mortal blow from a mighty blade. She stumbled back on all fours, bellowing in agony, "Oh, argh, blargh!" The girl toppled back and forth, prolonging her death scene. "Woe, I am defeated! Slain by a beautiful warrior, cut down before my time, ripped from the pages of history!"

"Pst," the little blond girl hissed, "Vikings didn't _have_ paper then, stupid!"

"Never to be remembered except in infamy in song or story!" the play-troll lamented, slumping against a rock and flopping pitiably. "Oh, for shame, my children will know only of my defeat! Sing them my dirge, noble warrior!" The little would-be Valkyrie rolled her eyes as the other began to improvise death lyrics on the spot, and—deciding to finish the fell beast before she could die of annoyance—tackled her off the rock and into the nearby stream.

Squeals of girlish laughter rang from the trees, startling birds from their nests, as the two struggled in the clear, crisp water. They splashed and dunked one another; they splashed, and they giggled. Drenched, they let themselves flop onto the shore, exhausted and happy in that way playing children are when finally spent. The little blond girl turned to her friend and giggled breathlessly, gasping out, "That was fun!"

"Yeah, but next time, _I_ get to be the Valkyrie warrior," the other answered, grinning from ear to ear, then declaring, "A mighty pegasus!" With that, she put her legs under herself and rose, bracing with all four hooves to shake her dark blue coat, sending water and bits of river sand flying every which way. Her long mane and tail flopped wetly and shone a shiny black in the sunlight. The little blond girl squealed again and shielded her face from the spray. Giggling, she rose and took the beaten hair band from where it lay, sliding it onto the now-revealed filly's backside to adorn it with the attached wings.

"Sure, but aren't you a unicorn?" the human girl probed, reaching out to poke the horn protruding from her friend's forelock.

Navy blue hooves warded her off. Grinning with her expressive face—its features faintly equine in the way a human's was faintly ape—she hopped onto the flat-topped rock and lifted a hoof proudly."Then I'll have to be a powerful and fabulous alicorn princess!"

Taking a breath, I shut my eyes. When I opened them, I was alone by the stream bed, the rock and shore bare of my imaginings. My heart pounded in my chest, echoing emotions that had come unearthed with the vivid memory. The doctor had said it would all fade with time—would that it could fade a little faster.

I couldn't think of anything else as I wandered among the trees on the old paths. I certainly didn't think of Mother or Amelia or other things not in sight. I didn't think of the latest fashions or which boys at school were cuter than the others. I didn't think of bands, math homework, shopping, dances, television programs, or any of a hundred normal, expected teenage preoccupations I had piled between myself and the childish things I had left behind. A thousand silly, vapid, distracting ideas served to separate the forest and who I was from who I became. As it turned out, this left me quite vulnerable, because without those distractions, every tree and bush in this land with which I was so intimately familiar became a gateway into a forgotten slice of memory.

Here, a foal and a little girl swung perilously on branches across a stream-cut ravine. There, they paddled in a hand-and-hoof-made canoe down the deepest part of the river towards the lake. They climbed trees over by the wash and they caught frogs in the ponds. The girls had first met in the last snow of winter, over by the lightning-blasted pine—two young, curious creatures keeping their distance and feeling one another out, frightened a little but with that bold spirit of reckless adventure that came to define them both. "What are _you_?" they had asked in unison, and then screamed at once in fright at seeing the other could talk, both running for cover. The filly had been the first to laugh at her own fear, and the girl had followed suit.

With my head filling up on flashes of recollection and my heart thudding with half-remembered feelings, I paused on a ridge lined with stones, one that had the best view of the sky for miles in any direction. There, on one hot summer night, they pitched a tent and told stories around a lantern to frighten one another. I knelt down to peer inside, my eyes penetrating the cloth effortlessly, when—sleepy and giddy, with their bellies full of s'mores and milkshakes and their heads cottony with a long day's adventuring—the little girl had leaned across the open survival guide she had pillaged from her uncle's army duffel bag and thrown her arms about the sturdy neck of her dark-coated friend.

"I love you, Leit," she whispered, her fingers curled tightly in the long mane.

"I love you, too, Daphne," Leit Motif had answered, her forelegs nearly as pliable as arms when they closed around the human girl, squeezing her just as tightly.

Daphne—which is to say, I—had pulled away, then, my face wet. "I'm g-going away for a week. M-my family's going on a vacation," I had said, stammering over the words. I grit my teeth in the present time—I really had no reason to be crying, I knew I was going to see her again after, but little girls could be _so_ ridiculous sometimes. "Then it's back to school. I'll come by after school, I promise, just like before!"

"I start school, like, a few days after that; I'll have plenty of time," Leit said. Caught up in the mutual emotion, Leit sniffed and rubbed her nose, her green eyes huge and shining. "Hey, I know!" she suggested, brightening. "Why don't we go to your place when you get back?"

I had frowned. "I don't know, my Mom and Dad… I don't think they like you…" I hemmed, but I could see the appeal. Ever since we met, my mother's tolerant laughter on being told of Leit Motif had rankled me. The thought of showing up at the door with her in tow to see their faces was priceless.

Leit Motif might as well have been reading my mind, her face splitting in a grin. "Come on, you know it'll be great!" she encouraged. "I want to see your new sister, too. I've never seen a human foal before."

"Baby," I had corrected absently, and beamed. "Yeah! That's perfect. Then I'll get to visit your folks, right?"

"Sure! We'll bring everyone together for a big picnic, and it'll be like everypony is part of a big two-species family, and we'll be like sisters!"

We hugged and the promises had flown back and forth, before we had curled up next to each other and fallen fast asleep. Mother had scolded me so fierce the next morning for staying out after dark that I couldn't help but let it slip. I would show her Leit was real.

I closed my eyes, banishing the images again, and settled down on the grass with a heavy sigh. The part that came next was the part I _really_ wished I could forget, a part of my life that was going to keep aching no matter how long I refused to look at it.

Taking in the late afternoon air and the wilting trees of the park, I realized that I had run long enough. I sat absorbing the beauty of a forest that was surrendering to winter's grasp and realized that if I didn't—like the trees before me—strip my soul of the dying leaves of the past, I would never overcome the lingering fragments of pain in my heart, circulated with every pump of red sap blood.

Bracing myself, I closed my eyes, gathered my resolve, and peeled off the unseen bandages.

"She is real, she is real!" little Daphne shouted at her mother, screaming now. Her face was filled with tears, and her hands were curled into little fists. My parents kept insisting and _insisting_ that Leit Motif was just a dream, and I was so _angry_. "I spoke to her, I held her, why can't you understand?"

"Daphne, _please_. Just _stop_," Mother shouted over me, at her wit's end. "We are going home _right _now if you won't be quiet and listen to me." She didn't stay quiet. We did go home. I never did apologize for ruining our vacation, the last we had taken as a family after Amelia had been born—add _that_ to my list of things I need to do to get closure today.

Three days home. Three days staring at the woods, knowing Leit Motif wouldn't be there, leaning on my windowsill by the shattered remains of my bulky old-school Game Boy, smashed in a fit of quickly regretted pique. After all, I had said I was going to be gone for a whole week; she wouldn't bother coming back before then. I saw myself walking into class. She was telling _everyone_ about Leit Motif now, and they were all eating out of her hand, the faces of kids eager to hear about her stories.

I stared down at a big wooden desk and a chair with a small, stubborn girl ensconced in it. A patient, kindly face adorned with spectacles sat across from her, his hands folded. She could pick out the typeface on the modest watch his wife had given him as a birthday present, and the round scar in his hand he had received in Vietnam. She came to know him very well over the next few weeks, so I could fill in those sorts of details easily enough. Her big mouth opened on that first day and told him, quite firmly, "Yes, doctor, Leit Motif is a magical unicorn—though she can't do any magic yet, and she doesn't have her special talent yet either, so she isn't sure what sort of magic she can do—and we're best friends, and I'm going to show everyone."

She told him as much for two weeks.

Images folded in my mind; a teary, uncertain face walking along the familiar paths. I could peer down the cliff and see myself now, with Mother and the doctor in tow. "Leit!" she called. "Lei-it!"

"Let's go and see," he had finally suggested, sensing perhaps that my doubts had reached a turning point. After two weeks of him patiently pointing out the holes in my story of how no one else had ever seen her, in showing me the children's stories of unicorns and faeries I had grown up devouring to show me the basis of my dreams, of using my own damnably intelligent brain against me to show how easy it was for me to make up perfectly rational stories on the most flimsy bases, he felt I could finally make a breakthrough. "Let's go and see, and put it to rest."

"Leit?" I had tried to call one last time, but it came out as a raspy whisper instead. I stared off into the darkening woods.

Put to rest and buried.

I lowered my face into my hands with the wind whistling past my ears and through my hair. All my childish things lay around me, all illusions stripped away. I tried to sever them, to let them join the blue sky at the far western horizon which even now had begun to darken into earliest twilight.

If only burying someone and moving on were quite that easy.

* * *

**Amelia**

I was so _bored_.

I kicked a small rock, watching it bounce down the trail. Hiding had been fun, but I didn't see the point any more. The sky was starting to turn red, and Daphne had not yet come crashing through the woods like a big, dumb elephant. For the first hour or two, I had actually believed she was going to go through with it this time.

I guess that made _me_ dumb, too.

My book of insects—"Entomology" was quickly becoming one of my favorite words—lay open on my bag. The thought of going back to hunting was thrown out immediately, as I had already been collecting bugs for the last hour, and it was getting harder to find new ones in this one part of the wood. My journal was full of sketches and notes. There were more than enough to blow my science teacher's socks off and maybe his shoes as well.

That made for yet another thing I liked that Daphne didn't care enough to pay attention to—she just didn't _get_ me.

Leaning against the tree and watching the sky, I chewed my lip thoughtfully. None of my friends had any older siblings, so they weren't any help. How did you explain what it's like to be ignored by your big sister to someone who doesn't even know what it's like to have a big sister to begin with, let alone what it meant when she ignored you every time you tried to show how much you cared or how much you wanted to spend time with her?

Forget about explaining it to Mom or Dad, either. I scrunched up my face and gave my best nasally impression of Mom, "You just need to try harder, sweetheart; she'll come around. She's a big girl, and she wants to do her own thing now and then." For Dad, I pictured a bullfrog I had seen in a cartoon and puffed out my cheeks, speaking as deeply as I could, "Mom's right, pumpkin. Daphne's just trying to be a teenager. There will be a time for you to have fun together."

"Stupid!" I shouted to the uncaring sky, startling a few birds, letting the world know how I felt about that. "And I'm not a pumpkin, I hate pumpkins! I'd rather be a kumquat!"

That settled it; a girl could only take so much pushing around. I squared my shoulders like a lumberjack getting ready to face off with an Ent and stuffed my textbook into my satchel. Its bookmarks were carefully set in place before my journal went in behind it, tied shut with a big rubber band. Next came my magnifying lens, then my pencils and my crayons, and finally my compass. I snapped the bag's clasps shut—briefly admiring how it resembled a floppy-eared monster bunny with a squiggly mouth from the front—and hitched it on. "All right," I informed the beehive I had hoped to surprise Daphne with, "I'm going to find my sister and _make_ her understand!"

When I got back to the place with the benches by the water, I searched around to see if Daphne was just sitting around. It would be just like her to be completely lazy and ignore me by taking a nap or something. Not finding her there, I hiked to the top of the hill, but she wasn't there either. I did find her shoe print on the flat rock at the top, however, so she probably went up here to get a signal so she could talk to her stupid friends. I hopped up on the stone fence and squinted around under the setting sun, looking for—"Ah hah!"

There she was, her head tucked down and her hands in her pockets. She'd let her hair go, and it was flying all over in the wind, like a yellow flag. I found a nice muddy spot and slid partway down the hill before running the rest of the way, my satchel flopping at my side. "You traitor!" I shouted at her. It was the first word that occurred to me.

Daphne's head jerked up, and I almost skidded into an uncontrolled slide on the path in surprise. She'd wiped her makeup off, and her face was all puffy, as if she had been crying. Which was impossible, of course, since everyone knew that evil queens had hearts of stone. It was obviously some sort of elaborate ruse, and it wasn't going to fool me.

Squeezing out my courage, I faced her down, as if there weren't several heads between us in height. "How dare you leave me out there!"

"I wasn't—" she began, but I didn't let her continue. I was half afraid she might say something that would make me less angry at her.

"—wasn't looking for me at all! You broke your promise, you said you were going to play with me!"

"I didn't _actually_ promise anything," she evaded, which was _exactly_ what I had wanted to hear.

"No, you didn't, and you never do!" I stamped my foot for good measure. "You're always saying you're going to do things, and then you _dump_ me with the rest of the junk! I waited for _hours_ because I wanted to spend time with you and you were off talking to your friends and playing with your hair!"

"_Amy_," my sister began, "I was going to come looking for you. I was just on my way—"

"Just now?" I interrupted again. It was getting hard to stop talking, like there was this train churning up inside my throat, and I kept on talking, faster and faster. "Just on your way _now?_ Just like always, it's always on your time or not at all. When do I ever get to decide what to do? How long until you just take me out and leave me on the road somewhere, so I can go off and be raised by wolves like you've obviously always wanted?

"If you don't want me around, why don't you just _go away_ and stop jerking me along?" I continued with barely a breath to spare, "You're the stupidest, ugliest, meanest, most hateful sister in the world!"

Daphne's eyebrows shot up, and I could see her color rising. Good.

"Well you're the filthiest, brattiest, most selfish little sister the world has ever known!" she shot back. The wind picked up and the leaves began to blow hard across the ground, swirling around us.

I gathered my breath and pronounced the most fatal, most unforgivable curse imaginable. "Well! If that's the way you feel, then maybe I don't _want _a sister!" A branch fell off a ways in the wood, as if to punctuate the severity of those words.

Daphne was taken aback, startled, but it only seemed to redouble her anger. She lowered her face to meet mine, while I rose up to meet her on my tiptoes, nearly nose-to-nose. "Yeah? You wouldn't last _ten minutes_ without a sister."

"Oh yeah?" I snarled back, like a mean dog.

"Yeah!" she hissed, like an angry cat.

"Fine!"

"_Fine!_"

I hitched up my satchel, turned, and ran. I didn't cry, either. My face just gets wet like that.

I'm not sure how far I ran. Daphne probably didn't even care enough to call out to me. Even if she had, I didn't care. I needed her as much as I needed fire ants in my shoes.

Running up and down the hills sapped my energy quicker than I thought it would. Mom always had us stick to the trails when we came out here together. Sheer temper drove me forward through the backwoods until nightfall, though, and then I understood why some kinds are afraid of the dark. Dusk was only about half an hour, but it was surprising how _fast_ it got dark after the sun set.

Somehow, the path had dwindled from a sneaker-trodden dirt road to a dinky little deer trail, ferns and other forest foliage nipping at my shins. It was already so dark, I hadn't noticed until a branch snagged at my bag. Pencil outlines of trunks stood out from the edge of the path, and even those were beginning to fade into the shadows. The canopy was only visible above because it blocked out the stars. Without the moon being high enough to provide some sort of illumination, every tree and rock was cast in near pitch black; even when I lifted my hand up, I could only tell it was there because it blocked the stars.

The cold had me zipping my jacket all the way up and stuffing my hands into my sleeves. I might have shivered a little, but it had absolutely nothing to do with being scared. Any other girl might have been frightened, lost in the forest and all alone out in the dark, but not me. It was getting really cold, however, and it would get a lot colder soon. On a long night like this, staying up to watch the stars come out, it was nice to have a thick blanket and a cup of hot cocoa. Two things that were desperately lacking.

A little girl, all alone in the woods at night; by all rights, I _should_ have been terrified. Determination and bitter feelings wouldn't let me be scared, though. I absolutely did not need a useless sister to hold me back, either. It's not like Daphne knew anything about the forest anyway. All she cared about was her school work and Facebook pages and boring boy bands. She certainly didn't care about _me_ or anyone real except herself. Jerk.

"I'll show her," I muttered. Taking my satchel off, I kneeled and carefully rummaged over its contents., thinking. Mom and Dad weren't getting home until close to midnight, so they wouldn't know what had happened unless Daphne had already called them—which she wouldn't. "I'll get out of here all by myself, and when I do, I'm going to tell her that I'll let Mom and Dad know _everything_ if she doesn't do what I say. I'll be able to get anything I want, and she won't be able to say a _thing,_ or she'll get in huge trouble. Maybe they'll even send her away somewhere. To prison. A prison on the _moon_ would be nice." It was a little better to hear my own voice while I worked. Not that I was afraid of being alone or anything like that.

Pushing aside my supply of cool mint gum in my satchel, I fumbled at a dark shape and blew a breath out in relief. With a click, the boxy flashlight taken from the garage came to life, forcing me to glance away to blink out the spots. It wasn't a good idea to point one of those near your face when it got that dark. I stuck a stick of gum into my mouth and pointed the flashlight back into the bag, seeing if anything else might be helpful. Out came the survival compass, its lanyard tied around my wrist; I didn't bother checking the temperature meter on the side—I didn't think I'd want to see exactly how cold it was. There was also the music player Grandmother had given me for Christmas, but if a bear was going to sneak up on me, I at least wanted to hear it coming early enough to scream before it gobbled me up in two bites—which would be really cool at least.

Mom told me not to talk like that in front of other kids, but she can be silly like that. Who _doesn't_ think bears are cool?

Not seeing anything else of use at the time, I carefully closed my bag up and stood, sweeping the flashlight's beam around. Two pairs of eyes glowed back at me for a moment, making me jump. At the noise, they became vague, blurring flashes, running away as fast as they could.

"Okay, Amelia," I whispered, "all you need to do is get unlost and leave the dark, coyote– or bear–filled woods and get back home. Then it's nothing but ice cream to eat and rubbing it in Daphne's stupid face for months." I turned my wrist over and held the compass level. With the flashlight, the compass pointed out which direction north was, which meant I needed to turn around to head west to get to town.

A quick spin on my heels set my heading, an eagerness to strip Daphne of all her dastardly, big-sisterly powers spurring me on. The harsh beam of the flashlight cut through the darkness and starkly outlined the brush and small rocks in hard shadows. It swept a long way among the trees, diffusing into a misty haze in places. When I was younger, I might have filled that low fog up with all sorts of things that might have been perfectly happy to gobble up a little girl who wandered from the path. But I was a big girl, now, and I was going to get out of this mess all by myself.

I hoped.

The wind continued to blow, and the trees kept on rustling in the night, unseen but not unheard, as I began walking. Owls had been calling earlier, but they were quiet now. I began to wish I _had_ taken out my music player because it was starting to become more than a little eerie out here; even a spooky soundtrack might have been better than nothing. There were other sounds, though. Bushes shifted in the dark—likely more rats and other rodents on the forest floor—and my shoes crunched on the fallen leaves and loose soil. Sweeping the light ahead of me every few steps kept me from falling into unseen holes. With the bed of fallen leaves, it was hard to see anything even _with_ the light, but it was certainly better than going without it.

Checking my compass after a while had me biting my lip to keep myself from screaming. I couldn't have gone very far, but I had already started to drift north, which was exactly where I _didn't_ want to go because the woods only got denser that way. There would be roads and settlements in almost any direction, but how long would it take to get there? And if I was getting turned around, I wouldn't get _anywhere_.

Resetting my course and heading off into the forest again, I wished I had a cell phone of my own. My confidence started to dry up with my throat, and my earlier resolve not to call for help would have vanished instantly if I _could_ have called someone for help, or at least been able to see the time of night or a map. A part of me even wished for Daphne to show up, if only so I could yell at her so I could feel better, and we could be lost _together_ instead of alone.

When I climbed up a small ridge, though, I almost cried out. A light! I could see a light!

It hung like a little sun over a trail, its gentle, yellow glow beckoning to me like a moth to a porch light. Roots tripped me up twice before I remembered to stop running and check where my feet were landing. It would have been really stupid of me to fall and crack my head open at the final stretch, but I was just so excited to see any sign of civilization.

Panting, I slid to a halt, falling over backwards on some loose dirt before the lantern. My braid hung in my face, nearly undone from the poor treatment it had received. The lantern swung slightly in the breeze, its light wavering around me. Looking around, however, I felt a sudden chill. The lantern's pool of light was an island within a sea of shadow and drifting shapes that I couldn't really make out. There weren't any buildings around, judging from the lack of light, not even a little outhouse for park rangers. I forced myself to cheer up, though. A light meant electricity, and it meant people came this way, maybe even at night. Getting lost on a trail would be a lot harder, too.

Oh... right. Getting lost on a trail was how I _got_ into this situation.

It all seemed a little strange, for all that. The lantern, hanging on a curved post, seemed like one of those old-timey pieces they put up in the old colonial part of town. It even flickered like a candle flame instead of a proper electric light, but it could have just been busted. There was more that seemed wrong here than just the light, though. I stared up at the sky, hoping to see the moon or something familiar, but even that seemed wrong. The stars in the sky were no help, either; constellations weren't hard to spot, but only Orion was visible, and it was in the wrong place entirely for this part of the year. Or I think it was in the wrong place; it seemed a little funny itself, for that matter, with some additional stars in places they shouldn't be.

But none of that mattered. There was still _a_ light, and it meant that I was in better shape than I had been, smashing through the woods. Turning my compass up, though, I could only stare at the little dial, eyes wide and jaw trembling—the stupid thing said I had been going east! Even as I watched, knuckles white around it, the needle inside wobbled a bit, as if it were unsure whether north was directly ahead or somewhat to the left. It was unbelievable; my trusted navigator, broken! It was like a sister who had turned traitor. I nearly cried right then and there.

Nearly. I'm a big girl, and I don't cry over stupid things like that, no matter how badly the night was going.

Wiping my face—because it was cold, _not_ because I was crying—I spun around and started down the trail, the cone of my flashlight watching the path ahead. It curved a bit, but the going was a lot faster now without having to worry so much about branches or roots or holes to trip over. There were little horseshoe-shaped indentations in the trail, too, so it was probably a horse trail. The family of one of Daphne's friends had a horse ranch outside town—hopefully it was one of theirs. Maybe I'd get to ride home on a pony. With any luck, a sign would present itself along the roadside soon.

There was neither a sign nor a pony, however. It certainly wasn't a ranch, either. I stopped along the trail, staring ahead with a smile creeping across my face. There was light, and not just a single light but what must have been a whole house of light. I would have run if my feet weren't so tired, but I still nearly skipped for joy, my bag bouncing at my side.

I froze.

The pond and the clearing it was in had no house, and it lacked anything like lamp posts or light fixtures, or even lanterns or candles. Instead, There was a full moon through the trees which I _knew_ wasn't supposed to be due for another week. I had memorized all of the full moons for the next two years in case of werewolf attack. Besides, the moon wasn't supposed to be quite that big or bright. Either way, it was almost as bright as daylight, or nighttime in a movie.

As I stared, what I thought to have been a very shiny rock... _fluttered_. The biggest beetle I had ever seen or imagined popped out of the ground, its back a snowy, luminescent white. It trundled along with its spindly, egg-white legs and searched along the ground, prying up little morsels of green. Before anything could be decided about it, however, something else moved.

That something else was so fast that I almost didn't see it at all before it struck. Long and sleek with smooth black fur, it had the look of a great cat, with alert triangular ears and a swishing, tufted tail. It pounced from the cover of the tall grass and slapped its paws over the great white beetle, pinning it to the ground. The monster's teeth gleamed with their own unearthly light beneath the moon, and its eyes seemed bright with blue fire. A gasp escaped my lips, and a twig snapped underfoot for good measure. The beast's head jerked up, but I had already leapt and grabbed a limb of the tree beside me, hauling myself up and on to it before the thing could cross the clearing to look. My flashlight had fallen to the ground, for it was too big to stuff into any of my pockets. In its spotlight, the monster was illumined sharply, a powerful shadow.

The beetle lay forgotten on the mossy clearing while the cat-thing paused, looking up at me as I climbed up another limb to get even further away from it. It lifted a paw and turned my flashlight over. There was a low hiss as the beam caught it nearly full in the face, and it backpedalled, tufts of fur or mane on its back rising and making it look even bigger. I could see that its claws, fully extended, were at least as big as a lion's, if not more so, and gleamed with the same witch-light its teeth did.

Even as it smoothed its fur and considered me for its next meal, though, I couldn't help but be fascinated. I had seen lions and cougars and tigers at the zoo before, but they had never seemed so dangerously alive as this one—or as beautiful. It had that same fluid feline grace and predatory posture as it circled below, and I hoped it couldn't climb trees if it decided to. There was no stopping it if it did.

"Not afraid, bairn?" it asked, and I just about let go out of shock. Its voice was as smooth and deadly and alien as the creature itself was, sounding like fine sand. There was an odd little click with the words, like some insects made, but I wasn't really thinking about insects any more. "Oh," it breathed, "you'll be very surprised if that gets you riled."

"You can talk!" I realized how stupid it sounded immediately, of course, but sometimes those things just slip out. Despite my fascination, instinct had me wrapping my arms and legs tightly around the branch. Shifting my body around slipped my unkempt braid from my back, however, dangling it low—too low for my liking. The thing might spring up and hook me with its claws that way.

"Always the first thing they say to the Morgwyn. Why not declare more important things, bairn? Might suggest, 'I am poisonous' or 'Are you full?'"

"But I am poisonous!" I said at once, pouncing on the opportunity like it had on the beetle. I opened my mouth and blew a neon green bubble from the gum I had been chewing all night.

The Morgwyn, or whatever it was, danced back another pace, its blue eyes wide and hot as the bubble popped and I sucked it back in again. I didn't let relief show, keeping my gaze firmly on the creature. It circled back, slowly and more cautiously, the tufts on its back rippling. "Oh, she is crafty," it hissed. "Did she dose herself or is it natural to her kind? One must find out." I wasn't sure if it was speaking to me or if the thing simply wanted me to hear its thoughts, but I didn't let it unnerve me. Dad's voice echoed faintly in my head, telling me not to show fear in front of those who wanted to hurt me.

"Yeah, too bad," I told it. "Why don't you go eat that pretty beetle instead? I don't want to get gobbled and you don't want your belly to melt."

"By the by," it disagreed, "the Morgwyn is quite content to interrogate a time yet. None would dare touch its prey before it was done."

"Well, _I'm_ not alone. I've got a big sister coming, and she's the biggest, meanest, ugliest green ogress you ever did see. She'll pop your head right off if you don't leave me alone." I knew it was a bluff, but there weren't a lot of choices open to me. The monster was a weird mixture of scary and lovely, pacing down there. It was kind of strange, but I remembered how much I really wanted a cat just then.

"The wee bairn is full of things to say but not so full of things done. You remind one of..." it paused, trailing off. Those fiery eyes looked off into the distance, the Morgwyn seeming to consider something, its hot breath steaming in the night air. "Yes," it hissed, more excited now, as it rotated back to face me, "you are the girl, the one who walks the woods."

"Yes," I answered immediately. It was a very important lesson I had learned from Mom's favorite movie of all time: _Ghostbusters_.

"I see now. The yellow hair, the algae green eyes, the earthen smell."

"I do not smell!" I protested, although the rest of the description was definitely me and couldn't possibly be anyone else.

"Forgive the Morgwyn its rudeness and threats, bairn," it said, its tone immediately shifting. Its claws retracted and it sat down, lifting a bare black paw in a gesture of welcome. "You have been expected."

It wouldn't surprise anyone to hear that I was suspicious. The spider was always welcoming when it thought the fly would come willingly into its home. Still, it could have attacked me at any time, if it weren't wary of the "poison" or whatever other surprises I might have. Insects had all sorts of nasty gifts to give to things that tried to eat them. If the Morgwyn was being truthful, maybe I wouldn't be stuck up here all night... or until it decided I was worth trying anyway.

Besides, there was a girl who looked just like me who was being expected by weird monsters in the woods at night; how could I pass up on that sort of mystery?

"Expected, by who?" I asked, intrigued, "Or what?"

"Why, the Morgwyn, and others as well," it explained. "A fabulous kingdom awaits you, of song and magic. A land populated by griffons and dragons and unicorns and pegasi and more."

"Unicorns? _Dragons?_" I gaped.

"Surely, only a fraction of what awaits."

Chewing on my lip, I looked down at the Morgwyn, weighing my options. Stay up in a tree until morning and hope the Morgwyn didn't manage to eat me anyway, then try to find my way home; or risk the jaws of a giant demonic cat now so I could have a chance to visit a magical fairy tale land.

"Sold."

* * *

**Daphne**

It took me all of about ten minutes to realize what an idiot I had been. Not to mention a jerk, evil sister, or whatever other terms applied right then. Even if she had known her way around, letting a little girl wander around the forest when it was about to get _very_ dark _very _quickly was about as irresponsible as someone could get.

"Amy!" I shouted, for all that I knew it was pointless. Sulking by the stream had let the dusk go from red to a deep navy blue across half the sky and for a healthy girl to run very far indeed. Twilight stars sparkled in cold mockery of my belated concern.

With visions of a golden-haired figure lying broken and bleeding in a ditch spurring me forward, I ran the way she had gone. All my earlier anger was melting away now. As if the day's emotional rollercoaster hadn't been harrowing enough. When I found her I was going to grab her and shout at her and ask her why she had been so stupid, and then I probably wouldn't wait for her to answer and hug her and take her home and give her all the ice cream she wanted. Or something like that. Her name came out as hurried, panicked gasps, my pace not allowing me to call out to her.

I kept running, and my legs began to burn before long, dashing over the trails headed deeper into the woods. Visibility steadily declined as the shadows of the trees, already merged into one vast swamp of darkness, deepened. Catching my foot on something unseen ended my mad dash, pitching me face first into the earth. Once the dust had settled, I hobbled to my feet, massaging my face and brushing it clear of leaves and dirt. "Ow."

Panting heavily, I stared around at the dark forest, which refused stubbornly to yield its secrets to me.

"Amy! Amelia!" I shouted, "Em, it's Daphne!"

My voice echoed over the valleys. I waited.

No response.

There was no point in charging ahead without at least thinking where Amelia might have gone. If she left the trails, it would be very easy for her to get irrevocably lost among the trees. Only the most dedicated hikers and the park managers themselves knew the land better than me, but one of the first things I learned was not to go wandering off in the dark. If Amelia had taken this direction and kept to the trails, it would take her deeper into the woods, and the nearest habitation in that direction wasn't for miles. It all seemed impossibly bleak.

If there was any hope of finding Amelia, it lay in one place.

As a young girl, every trip out into the woods had a specific meeting spot in mind. That last time, with Mother and my therapist at my side, an hour had come and gone with no sign of my imaginary unicorn friend. The meeting site wasn't visible from here, not in the dark, but the towering old oak would still be there, unchanged by a mere eight years. There was a good chance Amelia was there. If she had come this way, she would meet up with the river before long, and that would lead her straight to the oak. More importantly, it was the only place with shelter for miles around, and hikers often used it as such. Assuming Amelia had run out of bluster by now, she'd be there.

So resolved, I pulled myself together and began hiking again, picking a steady pace and ignoring my pain and discomfort. The moon was too low, the earth was pitch black, and even with my cell phone lit and pointed toward the ground, the trek wasn't without its trips, falls, scrapes, and bruises. In spite of that, I was rapidly eating up distance now that there was a destination in mind—the area around here was more familiar that I liked to admit. Occasional glances at my phone's screen, which had a few new chips and scratches from my many tumbles, failed to change the lack of a signal, as if the whole of Western Civilization had been left behind.

A loon called with its eerie scream as I found myself on that familiar ground again. The grassy knoll, the cavern-like roots. A star-filled sky hanging over a rugged landscape. Even the lights of the surrounding towns could be seen from up here, staining the horizon with their night lives. They spread across so much more of the skyline now. Yet another reminder of how things had changed.

The wind bit at me, stealing away what little warmth my body held from the run up the trail. Rubbing my arms did nothing to stave off the shivering as I looked around. Nearly the entire park lay before me. From here, it might be possible to catch a glimpse of her flashlight if she turned it this way. I scanned the darkness for the faintest pinprick.

There! A flash of blue!

I stared for a minute, conflicted. That was where _she_ had come from. There wasn't time to allow myself to be distracted by such thoughts, though. Only one thing mattered right now—my little sister.

I _ran_.

It was as bad as it could possibly be.

My breathing heaved, and I tried my best to quiet it. A younger Daphne might have been able to deal with this sort of exertion, but a few years of sedentary living could do a number on someone's energy. By the surrounding scene, however, it seemed that calm and quiet was going to be important. I lifted my head carefully over the log I was hiding behind, and stared down at the grove, which rose on the side of the hill by one of the deepest parts of the river ravine.

Three short men were down there, handheld lanterns arrayed about them. Each was wearing a strange overcoat and had a weird look about them, but I knew thugs when I saw them. All hair and muscle and bad teeth.

Seeing the lantern light had nearly given me a heart attack, and trying to approach through the dense brush on the top of the hill had been liable to kill me as well, but I was glad I had. Sweaty, dirty, bruised, and maybe a little bloody, I crouched down among the leaves and covered my hair with the hood of my jacket to keep anything shiny from showing. It was just like the games I used to play in the woods, only now it was all too real.

One of the brutes was rubbing a long, knotted stick in a nervous fashion, watching the approaches to the grove warily. Another, digging at a tin of something dark and fragrant, grunted, "Morgwyn comin'?"

"Yeup."

"Sure it got the girl?"

"Same as last six times you asked," the one with the stick said, his voice even more guttural and unpleasant than the other.

"Only asked four times," the one with the bean can complained, stuffing a handful into his mouth.

"That's only 'cuz you can't count past the four fingers on your right hand. Ain't never occurred to you to use t'other one, even though it got five."

"Shut yer mouth. Just 'cuz the big guy gave you the shiny stick don't mean nothin'," Bean Can growled and glowered at his companion.

"It means there's one set of brains between us, and I got a full share."

The one with the bean can frowned at that. The hitherto silent one spoke up, "Wait, don't that leave us with... wait, no, ya gotta carry the two—"

The stick came down with a snap. I swear there was even a flash of harsh light, like he'd just struck a magnesium rod against the rock, and I had to restrain myself hard from jumping. Now where the hell did _that_ come from...

"Quiet!" he hissed. "The Morgwyn's comin'—saw its devil blue eyes just now—and if you turn your back on it or make it think ye're weak, so help me Discord, I won't lift a bloody finger to save you."

They all rose up, and the other two even lifted what looked like big, ugly woodsman's axes. All three stood in tense silence. All three of them seemed to be genuinely wary. Even afraid.

The wind stilled.

If it was hard to keep from crying out before, it became nearly impossible when my sister strolled into the glade. It was even worse when I saw the _thing_ she was walking at the heels of. My eyes grew to saucers as I saw what they meant.

Devil blue eyes, like two bright stars burning in the dark beyond the circle of the lanterns.

I hardly had time to react when the man with the stick lifted it into the air and, at once, lights burst from its tip, filling the air with their magnesium glow and casting a light as bright as day. They hovered and spun like hissing comets.

_I knew it!_

My heart raced and I felt every tendon in my body tense, as if seized by electricity. I was transfixed by those lights. _I knew it!_

I knew it was real all along!

Not two hours ago I had told myself that I had buried all of my hopes and dreams and Leit Motif herself, and here were all three being suddenly and violently unearthed. A monster cat and a magic wand, right in front of my eyes.

Weeks of being told I was fooling myself. Months of being told magic isn't real. Years of saying I didn't care, that I didn't want to think about it. Those choices had led me to put away all the childish things in my past, so I could get on with my life.

All of it could go straight to _hell_.

"I knew it!" I shouted, springing up into the air with all the joy I had bridled deep inside me, hidden away in the dark recesses of my soul so I wouldn't feel it ever again.

Five sets of eyes turned towards me in the sun-bright clearing.

"Oh _damn it_."

No help for it now. I reached down, grabbed the branch I had left for just this purpose, and heaved. My purse, with all of its useful contents emptied into my pockets, came flying out of the dark beside me and, with my scarf unraveling from the tear I had made, showered all three of the ugly men with heavy, fist-sized rocks and a great deal of dry sand from the river bank. The one with the bean can was brained on the side of the head and went down with a bloody stain, catching himself on one hand, while the other two were definitely surprised and blinded.

"Run, Amelia!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, even as I gathered myself. It was totally insane, but I had no other choice now. I had to protect her. I _had_ to. I put my feet on the log and leapt like a lioness at the man holding the magic wand—or at least a very angry house cat.

Even though I had probably half his mass, I collided with him while he was still rubbing sand out of his eyes and with all the force inertia and gravity could lend me. The impact knocked the wind out of us, but I recovered first. He tried to hit me with the knotted stick in apparent instinct, and I grabbed it in both hands. A great gout of white flame shot from the tip, and it grew hot in my hands.

The other two brutes dove for cover as we began to struggle over the wand. He with the greater strength and impaired vision, I with the better vantage on the wand and a fierceness born out of righteous fury. With every twist, the wand shot off again. One beam hit a nearby tree, and it burst apart immediately, logs of sawn lumber raining down like a lumberjack's ill-timed wish. I heaved, turning the wand again, and it swept sparkling light over a pile of leaves. A great shower of white birds flooded into the air as the pile changed, shrieking and clawing, washing up into the dark like the foamy spray of an ocean wave.

The others didn't dare come closer, not with the wand firing off this way and that. I swore I heard an elephant's trumpet, and one of the rocks that had tumbled by the campsite bucked and leapt like a horse. Pine cones burst into smokeless fire, and the other two brutes yelped and rolled to keep their clothes from alighting. I shrieked and dug my foot into the struggling man's face, and balls of blue plasma bubbled out of the wand to land around us, swallowing holes in the earth with barely a whisper of effort. The one with the bloodied head shrieked in a high-pitched voice and fell back from one of those globes, losing his heavy leather bag.

Every blast of the wand was like a gunshot going off. I wouldn't have been surprised to see blisters rising on my palms from the heat if I could see more than faint flashes. The white, magnesium-bright blasts left me nearly blinded with spots, and each burst of sound left my ears ringing. My heart stopped as a flash went off near my face, with each individual spark showering off the tip and leaving a bright trail in my vision. Where it hit I had no idea, so consumed by the struggle and violence of the magic that nothing was distinct any more. With all the pandemonium, I believed for a moment that I might actually get through this in one piece, if I were quick enough. It was like the games Leit and I had made up together, fighting against imaginary thugs of our own making. I wished I could see where my sister or the cat had gone, but I had to keep all my attention focused on the task ahead of me. Maybe if I could get the wand away, I might have a chance. If I could only get my foot under him... I had to...

When my weight shifted, my foot slipped in the mud, throwing me off balance. The wand slackened in my grip, and, for one horrible instant, I knew I had made a terrible mistake.

With a great heave and grunt of effort, the man under me shifted, throwing his weight behind his shove and pushing me back. With the wand in a death grip, it almost came back with me. Instead, its tip pointed directly at my chest.

Alabaster light filled my world. I felt myself drifting back, softly, as if on a bed of clouds, watching the trees float by me through a haze of pearl fog. I was falling, gently now. Down. Down I went.

With nary a splash, I slid into the dark water. The surface closed over my body, and in my mind, a dark river, too, swallowed me whole into its depths.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

So we begin! I'd like to thank everyone who swallowed the Humans in Equestria warning and kept on through. For my first foray into first person perspective I don't think I've done that badly. There may be some edits in the coming weeks as I get feedback from various sources, but the content is unlikely to change.

I'd like to talk a little about the direction and influences before we get too much further in. I was chatting with a friend of mine (GaPJaxie) about how most Human in Equestria stories were, frankly, not very good, and the notion came to me of doing something inspired by Labyrinth. In that 1986 movie with David Bowie and Jennifer Connolly, Sarah (the main character) made an ill-advised wish and attracted the attention of a group of strange creatures who had designs on her and her younger brother. Throw in a little bit of Narnia, Oz, and Greek Myth... well, you'll see.

I'm not sure how many of you were expecting Amelia to be a perspective character. Hopefully, you like her well enough, because she has a stake in this affair as much as anyone else. Bit of a weird kid too, as you're finding out.  
Originally, Amelia was going to be a bit younger and more of a foil than a character. Thing is, that basically made her into a useless damsel who pushed the plot along by being an object, and I rather liked the character that was evolving in her place as this precocious, kind of strange child. This gives the story two forms of personal development represented in the older and the younger sisters respectively.

Be sure to follow the original on FimFiction here: story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


	2. Chapter 2 - A New Lease on Life

Chapter 2: A New Lease on Life

**"I know all the fowls upon the mountains, and the wild beasts of the field are in my sight." Psalm 50:11**

**Daphne**

Death could have been better.

Really, there wasn't too much to complain about. It felt very soft, clean, drifting me along as a mote in a black sea, rolled gently by its invisible currents. Still, everything seemed so terribly unfair for it all to have ended like that. There was no way to know whether or not my sister was safe, to know that my death had meaning, or to see my parents and friends one last time. Even with just a moment or two as a ghost, there could have been a friendly little scare and some goodbyes for closure.

At the very least, it would have been nice if there was something more to this whole "death" thing. It felt all right, but there was nothing to see, nothing to hear. Everything was surprisingly warm, too. My entire body felt suffused with heat, like I had spent all evening in front of a fireplace under a toasty wool blanket instead of slogging through the mud and leaves on a cold night, bloodied, battered, and hurled into an icy river. Among this warmth, an alien sensation, a peculiar tingle mixed with a feeling of displacement, flooded my every sense.

Despite this, my mind was clear. When the discharge from the wand had hit me, my head had felt stuffed full of cotton. Considering that, however, apparently stirred up the aches and pains out from whatever fugue I had been under, my leg joints and muscles complaining at the extreme paces they had been put through.

Vicious, biting cold pierced my sheltering cocoon of warmth, quickly robbing me of what little comfort and security I had left. Immediately, I seized up, but found myself constricted, with clothing and water pressing in from every side. Stark terror took over where contentment laid off, leading me to conclude that flailing wildly with my arms and legs would be the most constructive use of my time.

Spots swam through my eyes, and my body suddenly felt like it was being bent in half. Realization slowly sunk in. Unless death was a freezing river sweeping your battered body through a Massachusetts state park, I was still very much alive. How much longer that would remain the case, however, had yet to be determined. Choking initiated the process that the wand had failed at. I faded. My struggles grew less and less powerful. In a last ditch effort to survive, I drew on every half-remembered swimming lesson I could bring up, relaxed my body, and kicked desperately. Hopefully, towards the surface.

A stunning impact to the side of my head ended that hope. River water flooded in.

Everything went black.

Racking coughs shook my body awake, and forced water up from my lungs. Cold, frigid air bit at my soaked skin in a way the river never could as I laid breathless against the ground, stunned with pain and no small amount of disbelieving relief. In the time that was lost to me, I had managed to wash ashore on one of the many grassy banks that lined the river. Still half submerged, with my legs and most of my lower body tugged on by the gentle current, I remained still for several moments, dribbling river water like an invalid.

Vague, unfocused fears of hypothermia led me to make my first feeble attempts at dragging myself ashore. A sudden lack of energy and my sodden, heavy clothing made for slow going. Every movement, every inch traversed, coerced more water and silt—buckets worth, it seemed to me—from my throat and lungs, my body clenching and shaking. As the fits subsided, my breath returned in ragged, painful bursts.

"N-n-not go-gonna… d-di-die h-here," I rasped, shivering, before continuing to drag myself further inland, like a worm inching along the ground.

My legs and arms were leaden and useless. Maybe that blow to the back of my head—which now throbbed in exquisite agony—had left me crippled, but head and spinal injuries were a bit outside my high school curriculum. After struggling to a drier spot, I gave my limbs an experimental wriggle and found that they were at least responsive to my will, though they felt tight and restricted. My fingers were completely numb, however, causing a whole new wave of panic. Attempts to move them elicited no more than a weak flopping.

Hypothermia was setting in. The quickest remedy would be to get out of my wet clothes, so I struggled to sit myself upright. A few false starts saw me rolling halfway up before dropping on my side when my arms failed to support me. Dizziness would have kept me down, but I grit my teeth and pushed through it regardless, half-turning again to make another go. As my body craned up, my back gave out, forcing me back down onto my arms.

My shirt fought every inch of the way, and it became another battle just to get it off. Precariously balancing on one arm, I attempted to slip my other numb hand under the hem and was met with little success. All that squirming just tangled me up more tightly.

Something was wrong. All of my clothing was hanging awkwardly, wrapped too tight in some places and too loose in others. The gibbous moon had risen above the treeline, which was a profound relief—though a bittersweet one, for it meant I had been out for what must have been at least a half hour. Light from a moon that bright is surprisingly easy to see by, however. Now that my vision was clear, it appeared that there was a horse trail nearby, faintly visible. As for my own state, it took a moment to process exactly what I was seeing.

My arms pressed into the loamy earth in two stumps. That alone might have been enough to make me scream in panic if I had not been distracted by the sight of my legs, splayed out to either side as I sat. They, too, ended in bare stumps, my shoes and _feet_ apparently long gone. My clothes hung on me in a wet, sodden lump with no respect to proper shape and form.

A reasonable person might have considered the evidence and come to some sort of rational conclusion. She might have examined the situation more closely and thought of some way to deal with it.

I, however, screamed and flung my limbs every which way, losing my balance and falling back with a splash. My stump of an arm got inside my shirt and pulled against it. With a tear, the fabric shredded, freeing me from its grip. Trying to stand upright was a forlorn endeavor which had my back and legs buckling as my balance failed entirely. For a few moments, any night birds that may have been watching were treated to the sight of a strange, stunted creature dancing across the water, before she missed a step and crashed on her back.

With my cries piercing the night and sending animals and birds flying in fright, I flailed all four limbs skyward until I had shouted myself out. I laid there panting, chest heaving, with hair hanging over my eyes. The star-strewn sky turned pitilessly above, indifferent to my terror. It wasn't until breath and sanity had returned that I could brace myself and look down to take in what I had become.

If there was anything human left on me, it wasn't visible from where I lay, stretching up to get a look at myself in shock. A smooth, barrel-like body, covered in a very fine—if very sodden—pale coat, had replaced my own. Though there were still only four limbs, they were all legs, and they all ended in solid-looking hooves. There was a flick along the ground, and a wet tail flopped weakly, rendered nearly colorless in the moonlight. It could have been the same blond as my own hair. I craned my eyes up and beheld a whorled horn protruding from my forehead, shadowing my face. It was nearly enough to make me pass out all over again.

There was no mystery as to what I was, of course, now that all of the disparate facts had been put together. My supposedly imaginary unicorn friend had been small, with different proportions, but she had been as much a child as I. Still, I rubbed my new hooves all over myself anyway, discovering that there really was nothing left of the old Daphne. Long ears twitched as I touched them. My face ended in a short, blunt snout. Several years of adolescent development had simply vanished from the rest of me.

With growing panic, I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but only terrified neighing issued forth—

Wait.

I rolled my eyes and smacked a hoof against my forehead. "Ow," I grunted, carefully rubbing the spot I had struck myself, having discovered how hard a hoof could be. Being stupid and losing my head was going to get me into more trouble. "You _know_ you can speak," I informed myself disgustedly. "You've seen Leit Motif do it often enough, and you just did so yourself a minute ago."

Tears welled up as the name invoked the emotions and memories I had sought to bury only hours ago. "Leit Motif," I murmured. Those treacherous thoughts twisted in my guts like a jagged icicle, cold and grating. For eight years I had convinced myself that my best friend in the entire world was nothing more than a silly girl's imaginings, and now I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had been real.

With all the screaming and flailing about done and over with, I became accutely aware of how cold it was, and dangerously so with me still sopping wet. The shivers kicked in again as I tried to deal with my reawakened pain and present fears. Amelia could be miles away by now—I didn't even know if she was still alive. It was time to get help, but what would happen to _me_ if I went to the police? Terrifying flashes of movies where the alien or the Other had been hunted down and dissected on an operating table seared its way through my brain. I shut my eyes before the image could conjure itself in stark detail. Sometimes imagination could be a liability.

"Deep, careful breaths, Daphne," I told myself, trembling. "Just like Mom says, you gotta breathe first and then you can worry about what comes next."

I considered my next move. Without a doubt, my first priority was finding out if Amelia was all right. Consideration of my sudden equinimity—equinehood? Mareifcation?—could wait for the time being. The first step would be to call the police station, to see if anyone had picked her up. They'd also be able to call the rangers and find out if anyone there had found her. At least I still sounded the same as before. It would have made for an awkward phone call if my voice had come out equinified, as well. Reaching into my pant's pocket, I pulled out my cell phone.

At least, I tried to. Shoving my big hoof in there just stretched the fabric and failed to go deep enough. Tapping against the case was all I could manage. Trying to dislodge the cell phone by shaking my hips proved a useless effort. It was irritating, but removing myself from the clothing would be the quickest way to get at it.

Shrugging the rest of the way out of my clothes was hard, but it could have been worse. Scrunching myself back as far as possible let me fit my forelegs back through my sleeves, and I simply walked out of the tattered remnants of the shirt. My sodden pants went next by the simple expedient of pinning one pant leg to the earth and pulling the pinned leg free.

Even so, grabbing hold of my discarded pants to dump the contents of its pockets on the ground was like learning to use chopsticks all over again—it took tipping both of my forehooves together to pinch the bottom of the pocket, flipping it over and tilting my butt to get a good angle. Obligingly, the phone slid out, and I pumped a foreleg in triumph.

_Clack_. My hoof tapped against the screen. Nothing. Gritting my teeth, I pinned it down with one hoof and tried to nudge the tiny start button. After a few false starts it finally clicked. Nothing. When it became apparent the phone wasn't turning on, I snarled at myself, "Idiot! It fell into the river!" In a flash of sudden fury, my left hoof came down hard, cracking the screen and splintering the case.

The sound of snapping plastic jolted the red glare from my eyes. Stunned, I examined the was fairly excessive—my little hoof straight up _ruined_ that case. It might as well have been a sugar cookie.

Well, it's not like the stupid thing was going to work, anyway.

I braced on all fours and shook like a dog, much as Leit Motif had done time and again. Drier, if not much warmer and certainly no less exasperated, I considered my pants. Leit had been able to pick things up just by touching them with her hooves, but placing my own hoof against the article yielded nothing. Reality refused to accept that logic, despite all my rage and frustration being directed toward the tattered garment. Giving up, I bent my head down and picked the whole thing up in my mouth, slinging it unto my back, where it hung along my flanks and obscured my dripping tail. Hopefully whoever found my soiled shirt and underwear here wouldn't think some poor girl had been assaulted and left for dead. Though, technically, I _had_ been.

Still unsteady, I started towards the horse trail, chewing on the irony of such a thing as I planned my next move. Becoming more confident in my motions, they turned from a drunken wobble to an awkward walk, and then progressed to a steady trot that felt way, way too weird. The whole thing reminded me uncomfortably of baby horses learning to walk minutes after being born. My gait must have seemed ridiculously coltish, with its too-high, careful steps. The moon rode high in the night sky, but the deep shadows it cast still hid many dangerous secrets. It would just be my luck tonight to land in a pothole and break a leg.

All of this walking was useless if it didn't take me _somewhere_, though. If I was going to help Amelia I needed to find help myself, first. Where could a weird alien horse find help at this time of night, though?

A light bulb went off over my head, and I knew exactly where to go. Picking up the pace on a solid, well-used trail, I put on speed and hurried into the night.

When the warm lights of the Sun River Ranch came into view, surprisingly little time had passed. My pace was eating up ground at an unbelievable rate, with barely any effort on my part. It had been rough going before, sure, but I was walking much farther and much faster on legs that had been complaining at a stiff walk an hour ago. Maybe being turned into a freak wasn't entirely bad, if it meant finding help before midnight.

Though it certainly had an aspect of commercialized western glamour as a place for modern people—especially horse-obsessed young girls—to get a chance at riding or owning their own horse in a safe and wide-open setting, my friend's family ranch never felt artificial to me. The land had been a mixture of farm and pasture held by some part of the family for generations and consolidated under one roof, and it was still very much a place where an extended family made their living off the land. The family's western apple orchards were nearly bare with autumn's toll, but I looked up hopefully as I passed. My stomach grumbled in a plaintive fashion, empty since lunch, but there wouldn't be many leftover apples here after the October harvest. Besides, I wasn't quite sure I could reach one even if there was.

The long fence marking out the property was surprisingly daunting in my current state. Climbing it would have been easy before, but chancing it now seemed reckless. Leit had been able to scramble up trees and rocks just as easily as I could when we were kids, but the thought of getting up off my hooves and trying to scale a fence without proper arms made me dizzy. Setting a hoof against the lower timbers did nothing to bolster my confidence. With a grimace, I decided against it. Instead, a quick trot along the gravel road beside the fence led me towards its gate, the rhythmic crunch of my feet striking the earth disturbing the still night. The latch was dealt with in a fashion few horses on Earth could replicate—rising up on my hind legs, sticking my face over the side, gripping the latch in my teeth, and pulling.

The hinges creaked loudly and the gate swung open—_inward_ instead of outward, as I had thought it would. My weight pushed it open and dragged me along for the ride, my hind legs skidding along the dirt before the gate tossed me inside. I tottered a few steps on my rear legs in an inelegant ballet before toppling unceremoniously in a pile of messy hair and wet pants. When barking erupted from the house, my heart froze.

It started beating again, faster and faster, as I scrambled to all fours, imagining the dogs leaping out of the house and charging across the field to pounce and tear at my unprotected form. They would haul me down by my mane and tail and drag me away to cruel experiments, to put me on display somewhere, to have me pulling carts in gem mines, or some other terrible fate. Breaking into a gallop, I raced away, looking for a place to evade them. Instinct kicked in at the first opportunity, which was probably how I cleared a four-foot hurdle instead of balking at the difficulty.

My landing was spoiled somewhat when I flopped flat on my belly on the other side of the stall door, skidding slightly on the hay, with the barking growing louder by the moment. As my eyes were adjusted to the moonlight outside, it was difficult telling exactly _where_ I had landed. Standing up answered that question, however, when a big mouth nuzzled the back of my neck with a whicker.

"Eeeeee!" I squealed at the top of my lungs and darted forward. Spinning, I gasped for air, eyes wide and my tail held protectively close against my side. "Hector!" I spat, glaring at the big horse in the next stall. Apparently, he had managed to recognize me in my present state, or at least thought it would be fun to surprise me. I had ridden him or seen him ridden often enough to know what a pain he could be. It was still a little hard to make him out in the dim lighting, but it became considerably easier when a flashlight swept over the stable door.

"Crap," I groused, realizing my girly scream had probably been heard quite clearly in the quiet night. There were voices now; the deep tenor of my friend's father and the lower still basso of her uncle.

"Figure someone is trying for the horses, Victor?" my friend's uncle asked.

Her father replied skeptically. "Horse rustlers, in this century? Come on, Mark."

"That's why it's the perfect crime! Nobody ever sees it coming."

Panicking, I stamped my hooves in a nervous little dance, trying to think of a way out that wouldn't take me to the dogs or the sight of the approaching men.

"I know I heard something." That was Mark again, closer this time. "Like someone's alarm going off."

"Horses are up. Well, let's at least have a look. Jim, you take the dogs back, I don't want them jumping and getting everyone in there all excited."

"Sure, dad," a younger man's voice said. That was good at least—no dogs. They still had the entrance to the stable blocked off, however, but there had to be another way out of this.

The stall latch clicked, and the door creaked open. I froze, just for an instant, eyes wide as the light swung my way. A surprised shout following me as I bolted. If memory served, there was a loose board in the back of the stalls, one that would rattle and shake in a good wind and was always letting rabbits in. Hopefully, Victor hadn't managed to nail it shut as he always promised he would.

A painful crash had me halfway through that wall. Adrenaline fueled my legs and pushed me the rest of the way through. Turning about outside, I craned my neck back through the opening, snatching up my pants between my teeth mere moments before pounding, booted feet reached the back of the stable. Trying not to trip over the flapping pant legs, I raced for the other side of the house.

Distantly, Jim was calling for his father and asking what was wrong, but, bless him, he didn't let the dogs' leashes go, no matter how much they sawed at their leads. Panting with fright, I circled a small part of the yard near the garden. The house itself was a meandering affair, with many wings and additions, but I knew where I was going. Boldly leaping onto a pair of barrels and then over the white picket fence they were lined up against landed me within the house's garden, which sprawled lazily along one side of the building.

In the house, lights were being turned on, and voices were coming from the kitchen. A woman was almost shrieking, shouting at the men, "Victor! Jim! Mark! What is it, is it a burglar? A killer?"

"God's teeth, I've never seen anything like it!" Mark answered as I panted for breath, creeping along the outer edge. "It had these big bug eyes, and it was all pale and sickly!"

The hair rose on the back of my neck. I know I must have looked like death warmed over, but... pale and sickly? _Bug eyes? _He was making me out to be some kind of monster.

Fuming, I grit my teeth and kept low. My body was far more flexible than any horse had a right to be, and it was disturbingly good at moving like that. Leit Motif was proving a good role model again. Raising my head up, I prepared to check the room I had originally come to see.

The noises from the kitchen grew more frantic. "It's an alien, Victor!" Mark insisted.

"Now, brother, I know I saw something weird, but—"

"What if there's more of them? What if they've come for my babies?" Molly, Mark's wife, demanded in increasingly shrill tones.

"Keith, Frank, get the guns!"

"I'll call the police!"

My chest became a drum for my heart as I peered over the edge of the window sill, looking past a potted lily to the room within.

It was like a princess's room. Or, at least, a princess who had every modern amenity a doting father could buy. Many girls who had nothing but brothers and mostly male cousins became aggressive tomboys as a result, but my friend Naomi was about as far from being a tomboy as Pluto was from earth. An extensive Daddy's Girl program had rendered her utterly and irrevocably girly, but I loved her for it anyway. An explosion of pink, frills, and lace met my eyes, and I scanned the plush-strewn bed for any sign of her. The covers had been pulled down, so I knew she had been in bed and reading one of her favorite sappy romances. A nearby tissue box confirmed that last suspicion.

"No, no, Keith, the _bigger_ ones!" Mark shouted.

"The ones the Feds don't like, Dad?"

"Daddy?" I could hear Naomi's voice calling, "What's going on?"

"Get back to your room, sugarplum, and stay away from the windows," Victor said adamantly.

"Look! I think I saw one outside, dad!" Unless Keith had seen an owl, panic and nighttime misidentifications were setting in, which meant they would at least waste time jumping at shadows. Or shooting at shadows.

While I jimmied the frame, trying to pry open the window, bare feet pattered in the hall. Quickly, I ducked my head, so that only my eyes and part of my horn were showing. The door slammed open and a storm of red and pink burst in. If I were to be entirely honest, I would have to say that Naomi is prettier than I am—or prettier than I was, before I became Mr. Ed's niece.

Flouncing onto her dressing table chair, she smoothed her pink nightgown, grabbed an ivory-backed brush, and pulled it through her hair, pouting ferociously. Naomi had princess-like hair of which she was understandably vain, a great cascade of deep, metallic red curls that spilled all the way down her back. With it framing her heart-shaped face, she looked utterly adorable. If that look had not melted her father's heart, I must have given him a hell of a scare.

Dipping my head lower, I hissed to carry through the glass, "Naomi!"

I had been counting on a little squeak and wasn't disappointed. Naomi had always been rather soft spoken. "Daphne?" she called quietly. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, you ninny." My voice came out as a strained whisper. "Open the window."

"You sound like you're in a snit," she complained, miffed. "What are you doing here? Aren't you worried about the alien? Wait, what's that banging?"

I stopped pounding my head against the wall. "I _am_ the alien; please," I pleaded with her, "open the window and let me in."

There was a pause from within, and I looked towards the kitchen to see if anyone was looking. There had been no gunshots—_yet_—but every few minutes one of the boys shouted that they saw something, and it started a new flurry of activity. The barking dogs added to the clamor, which only improved things for me. "If you're really Daphne, then what's the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to her at school?"

Briefly, I considered running right then. Surely there was an unattended phone somewhere—but no, not for a long while. I sucked in a breath.

"When Bianca went through the trash and read my love poem to Henry Barker in the eighth grade."

"And?"

"I ran upstairs, climbed the ladder to the school tower, and shut myself up there for thirteen hours. The fire department came and had to drag me off."

"And?" she repeated, expectant.

My teeth grated loudly.

"Dad, there's an alien here," she said airily, as if she were practicing.

"On the way down in the fire truck's bucket, I threw up over the side, right on the police, reporters, and the mayor's wife."

The latch clicked and the window began sliding open. Knowing Naomi, the first thing she would do would be to stick her head out. "Naomi, wait!" I said at once to stall her. "Don't look. Just... step back into the room, and don't look until I say so."

"Now you really sound like an alien trying to trick me," she muttered dubiously.

"For crying out loud, if I were going to hurt you I'd stick a tentacle in and pull you out now. Just turn around and wait; it's important. If you're lucky, I'm a sexy alien fugitive shapeshifter who you can comfort."

"Okay, okay! Sheesh, no alien like that would be this grouchy. You really have a burr in your saddle tonight, Daphne," she complained, and I could almost hear her pouting as she moved over to another part of the room.

Hauling myself up on the windowsill, I scrambled my rear hooves against the wall for purchase and tumbled in awkwardly, my landing cushioned by a small mountain of plush toys. Hopefully, they wouldn't be too difficult to clean; I had always liked them as a little girl. For all we bickered, Naomi and I had been nearly as close as two friends could be since we were tiny. Maybe we were close because of all our quarrels, actually.

A slender, pretty thing, she stood with her arms crossed, facing the corner and tapping a bare foot. I glanced about the room. The door latch was in a locked position as I had hoped, and it was harder to hear what was going on in the kitchen from in here, especially once I'd turned and shut the window behind me. Much as I wanted an escape route, I wanted to avoid being heard more. Shelves stocked with light fantasy literature, horse fiction, books on genuine horse care and ranching, and pictures of us growing up together lined the wall with the door. One wall, the one with the window I had come through, was devoted to her own not-unskilled photography. Another had the door to a walk-in closet and a four-poster bed, and the last had her writing desk and her dressing table.

Naomi's full-length mirror had been brought out to stand in a corner, and, for the first time, I glimpsed my new form. It was something of a miserable sight, possessed of a bedraggled white-brown coat and a head of wild, blond hair that stuck out every which way, while my equally blond tail had twigs and leaves sticking out of it. I was not quite as tall as a modern pony, and there were many differences beside. Like Leit Motif before me, I had big, expressive eyes, and looked soft and pliable compared to any equine bred by humans. It was easy to imagine how she might have developed from a cute little filly to a cute little mare like me. What definition my muscles had was minimal, and, over all, I gave a harmless, sweet appearance that belied the fright Naomi's family was experiencing—even my horn looked soft-edged and unthreatening. I blew out a frustrated breath in a horse-like nicker.

Startled at that noise, Naomi disobeyed me and turned. For a long moment, she stood transfixed. Stumbling back a half step at her gaze, I became very aware of the fact that I had just sealed off my only escape route. In my imagination, I already vividly saw her screaming and grabbing her chair to fend me off, which is why it caught me completely off guard when she flew through my mental image and tackled me to the wall. She hauled me up off the floor and proceeded to squeeze every last breath out of my body. Wheezing and waving my hooves uselessly, I tried to gasp a response, but she only hugged me tighter.

"Finally!" Naomi cried, "Oh, I've been waiting so long for this!"

"Gak!" I gasped eloquently as she began to dance around her small room with me in tow, trying to keep my balance.

"I've been wishing and wishing and wishing for this to happen ever since you told me! A unicorn of my very own! My magical pony best friend forever; my very own MPBFF!" she squealed, nuzzling her cheek against my face.

"Naomi—" I choked, trying to get a word in edgewise.

"Oh we'll have so many wonderful and magical adventures together!" she breathed in wondering awe as she let me flop down on the floor, coming down beside me and smoothing my mane and tail, plucking the twigs and leaves out. "You poor thing, we'll get you settled down with a nice stall and a bale of hay and some oats, maybe an apple or two, and I'll wash you and brush your mane and coat and tail and it'll be _so perfect_. Just like I always dreamed!"

"Look, Naomi—" I tried again, my throat clearer.

"Eeeheheheehe," she giggled obscenely, her cherubic face haloed in a cloud of red as she beamed at me. "Ever since you told me about your friend, I've been _so _jealous. I never stopped believing, and I've been out in that forest at least once a week since I was seven, trying to find Leit Motif for you. And now you're a magical pony and we're going to be bestest best best friends _forever!_" What, we weren't already best friends? Was I was the newer, shinier model?

My mouth dropped open, and I couldn't help but gape in astonishment. I wasn't sure whether to be touched that she had believed in me when no one else had, or else deeply concerned at the level she was taking this whole thing. At the moment, mostly the latter.

"I think you're about eight to nine hands tall, which is pretty insignificant for a pony, but your neck goes almost straight up, so that gives you a lot more height at the crown," she continued, oblivious to my distress, as she poked and prodded me, turning my head this way and that. "Your craniofacial morphology is really developed—the prominent eyes, the shortened snout, the enlarged cranium. You certainly have a brain at least as big as a human's. The gracile ridges and facial muscles indicate advanced social development."

This spiel had me too stunned to object as she lifted one of my forelegs, examining the joints and muscles with a horse trader's professional grip. "Oh neat, you're way more flexible than any pony I've seen. If it weren't for the hoof, I wouldn't be surprised if you could grip objects. You even have strong ellipsoid joints where a human's would be, just tougher to take impacts from walking!"

"How do you know so much—" I started, and then interrupted myself, looking at her shelf again. Riddle solved.

Naomi reached for my tail, starting to lift it just under the dock. "So do you have menstrual or es—"

"_Naomi!_" I shrieked, skittering away with my tail held protectively behind me, staring at her. "No! No! Bad girl!"

Deciding I needed to settle this at once, I reared up and pressed her back to her bed with my hooves on her shoulders. "Naomi, please, for the love of all that's sane, listen to me," I begged her, my voice racing on. "I'm sorry, but I'm _not_ here to be your magical special friend you've longed for since girlhood. I was in the forest with Amelia, and some monsters _kidnapped_ her, and then I got hit with a magic wand and _c-cursed_ into this shape."

My voice throbbed with emotion as I laid out my tale for her, the events of the day compressing themselves into a tight knot in my throat. "I was just out there with her, and w-we had a f-f-fight because I was be-being horrible," I told her, my eyes starting to swim with tears. "And she r-ran off whe-when it was getting dark and I was such an id-_idiot_ I let her go at first."

I sucked in a breath as Naomi's face fell into increasing concern and horror. I told her about the strange men, the encounter in the grove with the cat, and my struggle for the wand. I told her about how I had pulled myself out of the river to discover my transformed state, and how I had nearly drowned or fainted from the cold. How I had run all the way from there to her ranch, and about how I had nearly been caught by her father and uncle and the family dogs.

At some point, I'm not sure when, I had started crying, tears running down my smooth cheeks. Naomi's arms went about my neck and, this time, she held me to her gently. I felt her warmth against me, her form against mine.

I wept like a child.

This was another reason why Naomi was among my closest friends. Sure, she could be ridiculous and wimpy and fruity and maybe a little scary at times, but, when it was important, she knew how to put all of that aside and be there for me. She was smarter than she seemed and had a deep, kind heart full of laughter and love. I needed her then, and more than just for a phone.

"Shh," she whispered, stroking my mane as I sniffled. She even got one of her spare brushes from a drawer nearby and began running it through my hair. Half-curled on her lap, my head against her chest, I must have looked an awful mess, pony or no. It was silly, but her ministrations helped spread a sense of calmness and lassitude through me. Funny to say, but we had brushed one another's hair before, and I always did find it comforting, particularly when I felt lonely or lost. "It's all right, Daph, I'm here."

"Oh, Naomi," I breathed plaintively. "I don't know if Amelia is all right. I don't know if I'll ever be normal again. I don't know if it's given me cancer or if I'll lose my mind or anything."

"You'll be okay. It'll work out. Does Em have a cell?"

"No," I closed my eyes.

"Let's call the house, then. If she got away in the fight, she may be home already!" she said with infectious optimism. It didn't matter whether it was faked or not. I nodded, and she pulled her smartphone out, scrolled through the contacts, and dialed my house, putting it on speakerphone. Just like her, a thoughtful little touch.

The phone rang. It continued to ring on for a time. When it got to the voicemail, she hung up, frowning, and asked, "Shouldn't your parents have answered?"

I shook my head against her. "Theater. They won't be home for a while yet."

"Okay, let's call the cops," she said, and I laughed softly. Just like her to guess my thoughts from time to time. She dialed the sheriff's line. A brief conversation later—a false name given—and she shook her head, hanging up. "They said they haven't picked up anyone of her description."

Shakily, I began to rise. "There's only one thing to it, then," I murmured, steeling myself. "I need to go to _her_ land. To Equestria."

The silence was deep. Even the family had calmed down, though I think they were still up, since I could hear dogs barking intermittently, and no one was stopping them. Naomi ran a hand through her hair and stood up.

"Do you know how to get there?" she asked.

"Maybe," I hesitated, thinking aloud, "I mean, Leit Motif told me a little about how she got here, but, uh... I never really thought it important; it never occurred to me that Equestria was anything but another town at the time. But I know where she came from, and it's along the line where I met those _things_."

"Okay," she said, and started to peel her nightgown off. I would never admit openly that I envied more than her pretty hair sometimes. Not to mention her total lack of shame.

"Uh, Naomi, what are you doing?" I asked, sitting my rear down again. I felt like a cat doing that, while bracing my upper body against my outstretched forelegs. It was very much not a normal pony thing, but, as Naomi had pointed out, I was definitely no earthly pony.

"Going with you," she insisted, taking some ties from the dressing table and tying her clouds of flaming hair back into a bushy ponytail.

"Haha, no," I protested, starting to stand. Wailing sirens rose outside, causing me to pause as my ears perked to the sound. I went to the window and saw a line of sheriff cars charging up the road to the ranch. Naomi's uncle and cousins would already be scrambling to secrete away the heavier duty firearms, while, I imagined in like fashion, the country sheriffs would be busy tackling me to the ground and hog-tying my legs.

A thudding of feet in the hall alerted us both to trouble, and Naomi hissed, "Daph, back here!" She threw open the door to the walk-in closet, and I darted in without hesitation. It fell dark when she closed the door, but for the thin planes of light let in by the slats in the wood.

The bedroom door swished open, and a figure entered the room; of course he would have a key. I was such an idiot sometimes. Peeking through the slats as best I could, I saw Naomi scuff the twigs and leaves under her bed with a foot. "Daddy! I'm undressed!" she complained.

"Sorry, sugarcube, I need to protect _you_ before your modesty," Victor apologized as he peeked under the bed.

"Dad, I think I would have noticed an alien in here."

"Might have come in while you were in the kitchen. Scoot." He gestured her aside.

I scrambled back, thinking fast. An idea occurred among the faintly perceived shapes around me as I backed up almost to the wall.

When Victor opened the closet door and flooded the little room with light, I had braced myself amongst her backup plushies, including the largest of them—a pair of bears and three horses. I kept my head still, my body frozen, and my eyes wide and staring. It was an incredible effort not to blink or flinch, but I visualized it in my head: I was a unicorn plush, no different from any other, glassy-eyed and adorable for all that I was mussed. I probably looked slightly more stupid than the fluffy dog at my side, one that nearly dwarfed me.

Victor stepped back to let more light flood in. I held my breath. The strain of stillness was cording my neck muscles intensely. At any moment, my mental image might have slipped and with it my will to remain still. I wished I had taken a moment to wipe my coat where it had been wet, and begged the universe not to let him turn the closet light on.

"_Daddy_," Naomi growled, taking the universe's place for the evening. "This is ridiculous. There's no creepers, killers, or grey men in my closet. I'm also still undressed."

Embarrassed, the man stepped out, running a hand through his short, reddish hair. "I'm sorry, sugarplum, you know I'm just worried about you."

"Yes, yes, I know. Out, out!" she demanded, and shoved him to the door. He may have been upwards of two hundred pounds of muscle, but against Naomi he might as well have been twenty. Banishing him beyond the threshold, she slammed the door again.

I gasped a sigh of relief but remained hidden until it seemed certain the danger had passed. I crawled out, looking up at her from the carpet, resigned. My ears drooped, and I shuffled my hooves together awkwardly.

"Settled, then?" she asked, beaming. She was already filling one of her bags, regardless of my answer.

"Settled." I sighed.

"Naomi!" I complained, shutting my eyes and trying to cover my face as the jet from the hose smacked me in the nose. "Knock it off!"

"You already tracked mud in my room, and I don't want you getting parasites," my friend insisted. I spluttered and glowered when she started to spray the rest of my body, looking not unlike a soggy kitten. She was dressed in her riding leathers, durable and easy to travel in. On a set of saddlebags resting on the stall, a sensible cowboy hat had been slung. It was astonishing how quickly she had packed and dressed. In my experience, it could take her hours to get ready for even the simplest trip. A small electric lantern illuminated the two of us, and a backup oil lamp was attached to a camping backpack.

Groaning, I turned in a little circle, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. Copious amounts of dust and grime sloshed off me to run along into the stable drain, while horses trying to sleep nickered softly. Somewhere outside, on the other side of the farmhouse, the remaining sheriffs were combing the woods, aside from a pair talking to Victor and his wife, the quiet Tess. Naomi and I had waited until they had checked over the stables and this side of the ranch before making our break, so we weren't too concerned about being caught.

Completing my turn, I grunted as a wet sponge hit me. "Gneh! We don't have time for this!"

"Oh relax, I didn't soap it. I'm just scrubbing the worst of it off. Besides, you shouldn't complain so much. You're absolutely _gorgeous_," Naomi said breathlessly, and I began to suspect her motives were not entirely altruistic.

"I am not! This is a horrifying, Kafka-esque transformation, I am not—eee!" I squealed and jumped. "Stop nuzzling me at once!"

Naomi giggled wickedly and rinsed off the rest of the gunk, then started to dry me off with a big towel. I pushed her away and grabbed it in my hooves, backing up and using the side of the stable for balance. Though I still had no idea how or if I could pick things up with my hooves, it wasn't hard to hold a big towel and rub it against myself. Besides, I was becoming intimately aware of the fact that I was stark naked, coat aside, and Naomi wasn't making things any easier in that respect.

"Can you sing now?"

"What? No, why would you even ask that?"

"Well, you know, magical pony best friends _should_ sing, and you were always awful," she complained, reaching around behind her.

"Knock it off, and—hey, what're you doing with that—"

Then came the brush, and fighting her off proved less successful this time. My friend came prepared, armed with her most devastating little girl pout, and I scuffed my hoof on the floor and snorted a reluctant agreement. Now that my hair and tail were reasonably clean and damp, the brush went through them easily.

"Oh it's a lot more like human hair, too; that's _fascinating_. It's interesting how you don't have a crest. I wonder why."

"We can wonder why later. C'mon, Naomi, you've brushed me enough, stop it," I whined, pattering my feet. Twenty strokes on my tail was _quite_ enough, thank you. I gave her my most ferocious glare—which, in my present state, was more likely to be an adorable pout.

Naomi confirmed this by squealing and hugging my head. "Oh you are just _so_ perfect," she crooned, and lifted a small hand mirror. Having no particular desire to see, I only reluctantly observed my reflection, and grudgingly had to admit that I looked a lot nicer. My hair was much like my own had been, a shiny mop of blond that fell past my chin. A very fine coat of groomed, pale hair covered my body, and my tail was a somewhat bushy golden color. I supposed I would have to admit that I looked a heck of a lot cuter than most horses, too, but I certainly wouldn't do so in public.

As I looked, Naomi started reaching for a bridle hanging on a hook on the wall.

"Whoa!" I squawked, pinning it there with my foreleg. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh!" She paused a beat. "I'm sorry, it was automatic," she then offered, though her hand remained frozen in place, still reaching for the headgear.

I narrowed my gaze at her. "That didn't sound entirely sincere."

"Anyway!" she evaded quickly, finally stepping away from the tackle. "Let's get going." She slapped a set of small saddlebags on my back, and I let her cinch them. What was left of the belongings I had rescued were in them, and more room besides.

"Right," I agreed. For all my complaints about time, there had been perfectly legitimate reasons for us to wait before taking off. The lights of the sheriffs' wagons were only now beginning to roll out across the night, so it was risky to head out just yet. With a dry coat, I didn't feel the bite of the night air as I might have, and it was reasonable, if not comfortable, for me to stay out in the chill for a little while.

Hearing shod hooves, I half-turned and blinked at my friend. "Aren't we taking the truck?" I asked, watching as she smoothly mounted the saddled and bridled Hector. The big, speckled stallion was restless, sensing the excitement of his rider, and chuffed at me. A quick step back prevented a repeat of the nuzzling incident earlier. Naomi stilled Hector with a casual touch and tucked stray flaming hairs out of the way, her hat on her head. It had a surprise at first when she started wearing entirely practical gear, but Naomi had made it perfectly clear that she thought cowgirl chic was entirely gauche. Besides, when asked, she responded truthfully that she made the frontier ensemble look _good_.

"Uncle Mark passed out in the back with a bottle of rum and his favorite shotgun," she informed me, rote, with a mirthless grin. "Unless you have a crane, we're going by hoof now."

I arched a brow. "He has a favorite."

Naomi gave a shrug. "He insists he loves them all equally, but everybody knows."

That change in plans had me biting my lower lip in considerable thought. With my new body, I could eat up a lot of ground, and, having ridden the path before, I knew we could get to my house within half an hour on horseback if we were quick about it. "More importantly, we'll be able to get through the forest a lot quicker," I thought aloud.

"Besides, you can't have an adventure without horses," Naomi declared vainly, her head held high and a self-assured grin on her lips.

That left about a third of her library unaccounted for. "What about science fiction?"

"Space horses," she answered gravely, eyes suddenly wide and determined, but her grin had straightened out only a little. Hector whinnied, as if in agreement.

"Fine, I'm not going to argue with both of you. Come on, we've got a road to hit," I announced, and put my hooves where my mouth was, moving into a steady trot towards the gates.

An eager Hector joined me, restrained from his competitive instincts by Naomi's firm guidance. She had a small camera in hand and was filming me as we went, her knees guiding the big animal. The little _coos_ and _awws_ she made as I picked up the pace from a walk to a trot, or when I agilely dodged road obstacles, were getting very distracting.

"I'm glad you're enjoying my discomfort."

"Yeah, it's like a dream come true!"

There was no expressing in words how grateful I was for modern road lighting systems, and, without having to worry as much about potholes or hidden roots, I devoured distance. Keeping up with the big stallion was proving my most trying experience. Hector clearly wanted to show who was the faster racer, and tiny little me couldn't possibly have kept up with a hotblooded animal forged by thousands of years of directed breeding. The comparisons to be made between humans and great apes was very starkly evidenced here. I could no more have competed against him in a race than I could have wrestled a gorilla as a human.

On our way, I kept to the far side of the larger animal, away from the street, as we jogged along the horse trail. It wasn't a perfect cover, but it was unlikely the occasional car speeding along would notice me beside the bigger animal, and the last thing I wanted was for people to start swooping around town with Instagrams of an alien on Twitter and Facebook. When we passed a gas station, the very idea of food had my stomach threatening to revolt, demanding sustenance. Suddenly, that offer of hay and oats didn't seem quite so out-of-line.

While I started to contemplate whether or not grazing on the grass beside the road was a good idea, Naomi perceived my plight and took pity. Of course, my stomach was growling loud enough that she should have heard it clearly. "Let's get a bite to eat," she suggested. We were within the town, now, if on the fringes of it, and we had to watch out to make sure we could pass through unnoticed.

"What sort of places are open this late? I guess we can get some fruit or something from a Seven-Eleven," I commented. I would have to eat vegetarian, of course. Leit never even liked looking at my hamburgers, though she devoured ice cream, so I supposed I could at least get dairy.

"It's only twenty to nine. I know a place," Naomi assured me. I marveled at the time as she turned Hector and started trotting down a tree-lined lane. What had felt like days in my mind had only been three or four hours. The thought unsettled me, and weariness seeped into my bones.

Never one for vegetarian food, I didn't recognize the diner, and I kept well back from the main road in any case. Concentrating on her goal, Naomi failed to notice my depression, and I preferred it that way. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts just then. Slumping, with my head low and a deep, scowling pout on my lips, I watched the shoppers and diners going about their business. Late as it was, there weren't many, but there was still a sense of separation between them and me. They were... _human_. Each and every one of them had a life here. Work, school, families. There was no way I could go back to school like this. There was no telling what Mother and Father would do to me, even if I did manage to find Amelia. There was nothing left of their oldest daughter, of the old Daphne. There wasn't a place for me here. I couldn't even drown my sorrows in a stacked quarter-pounder and cheese. No, all I had was a horn sticking out of my forehead, my naked coat, and a too-eager friend who probably wanted me to stay like this for the rest of my life.

Hector pawed at the ground with a hoof where he had been left. My brow furrowed further, tears beading in the corners of my eyes, as I glanced his way. "Yeah, look at you, big guy," I snarked, pushing back my grief with biting sardonicism. "She steps on your reins, and you stay right where you are. Yeah, you're a big wuss, aren't you?"

I sounded pathetic.

Naomi found me curled on the ground, my head between my forelegs and my tail tucked around my side. I looked up, and she bit her lip, apparently trying to keep from bursting into tears at the sight of me right then. She could be such a sap.

Showing surprising tact, she simply laid a steaming bag down beside me and stepped away to munch on her own. In spite of my growing depression, it was impossible to remain entirely upset amid such intoxicating aromas and a growling stomach. Nosing the bag open, I snuffed inside with my big muzzle.

"Processed mushroom burger," Naomi informed me. "Oats, garlic, onion, parsley, oregano, pickles, all on a wheat bun. I know how much you like cheese, so I had them shred parmesan all over it, even though it's going to go right to your hips."

My mouth watered, and I shoved my face in, tore the wrapping away with my teeth, and scarfed up the burger with delight. It was no beef, but, with mayo and dressing and cheese and meaty mushroom and everything else, it was like a chunk of heaven all the same. To a starving mare who had not eaten anything since before noon, it was as if life had begun anew. If not for the bag, I would have been spraying juices across the grass like we were on the set of a horror film. I didn't even need to ask for more before she put the cheesy fries down next, and I inhaled them in great gulps.

"Oooh," I moaned. "Salt and grease and cheddar." It was nearly obscene; I should have been embarrassed to enjoy myself this much in public.

Naomi giggled, pecking at a salad, while Hector tried to steal a bite. She shoved his big head away. "Later, you, I brought plenty of oats." He settled for nuzzling at her mane of red hair instead. "Are you feeling—omigawd that is so cute!" she squeaked, watching me suck up a milkshake through a straw, my face puckered up.

"You are going to be just impossible, aren't you?" I asked around the straw, unwilling to stop eating.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through the night." It was difficult to tell if she was being sarcastic or not, fanning herself with a plastic fork in hand. "I'm already melting into a puddle of joy."

Gagging noises told her what I thought of that.

Naomi gave me a grin. "Aww, don't ruin it. You're so much cuter this way. Really, Daphne, you can be a bit of a snit; you should take this chance to look at life from a new perspective."

"This is plenty perspective enough for me right now, _thanks_, and I am not that bad."

"Daph," Naomi planted her fork-holding hand against her hip as she regarded me, "you've been like a bear with a sore paw for a while now. Even before you broke up with Marc, you acted like you barely had time for anyone."

My first instinct was to snap back at her, rising to do exactly that, but it would have merely proven her point. Falling back to my milkshake, I allowed a moment to pass so I could take stock. "I know, and I'm sorry. I've been pretty unfair to people lately."

"Self-obsessed, perhaps?"

"Don't push it," I grumbled. Shaking my head, I huffed a sigh. This was really the first time I had been able to sit and think since the discoveries of tonight, and, since we were here eating anyway, it seemed a waste not to get a load off with my best friend—much as I had been reluctant to, earlier. Who knew when we'd be able to sit down again to talk? "It's been that way ever since I gave up on Leit Motif. How much _do_ you know of what happened back then? I know I didn't tell you, well, anything after a certain point."

Naomi shook her head. "Not much, no. Father told me you were getting help from a therapist, and then you started acting pretty strangely after that. Don't you remember when I broke into your room to complain about how you weren't talking to me any more?"

That startled me. I _had_ forgotten about that, but now that she had reminded me, I could remember waking up in the middle of the night to a cloud of red hair and angry, crying eyes. Strange the sorts of things that get lost in the dust of memory. Nodding, I said, "You thought I didn't like you any more. This may sound funny, but I honestly thought that you hated me."

"Because of the other kids' parents? You know my parents aren't like that, Daphne. They'd never have told me to stay away from you. They knew you, for one, and they thought you were just acting out because you were afraid." She closed the distance between us, dropping her fork into her tray as she walked, and reached out to stroke her hand along my mane. "Besides, _I_ believed you. Seems that panned out better than any of us expected, too."

"You're a sap, and I hope you get carried off by a dragon," I griped, but gave her hand a quick nuzzle.

"Depending on how cute he is, I might not object too strongly," she said, giggling.

Stealing some of Naomi's salad, I washed it down with another gulp of my milkshake. "You may be more right than you think, though," I admitted at last. "Not about the transformation giving me a new perspective, though, so much as it is the whole thing. I tried to put all of that away because I thought it was hurting me, that it was unreal, and I couldn't tell the difference."

"Now you know it's real," she said, pushing the rest of her salad my way. "You don't have to be afraid of being yourself any more, Daph."

It was gobbled up gratefully, and I finished off my milkshake before pushing all the trash into the burger bag. Wiping my mouth was a challenge, but I managed to hold a pile of napkins between my hooves and used those to mop up my muzzle. "Being myself," I mumbled. "I'm not sure I know how to do that anymore."

Her hands lifted my face, and she cleaned off a speck I had missed on my cheek, before sliding her hands down to my hooves and giving them a squeeze. It should have felt belittling, but Naomi had something of a gift when it came to tender devotion. No one else had ever been able to soothe my hurts quite like her, and I never let anyone touch or even hug me quite like she did. It was exactly the sort of affection I needed just then. Closing my eyes, I exhaled, letting a portion of my worries go.

"Let's get going," I said, and reached back to nose into my saddlebags. Naomi put a hand to my neck as I pulled out my wallet, give me a gentle push to let me know I didn't have to pay her back. I reluctantly put it away and snorted, scuffing my hoof on the ground awkwardly. Nothing was said; we both understood. I chucked the diner bag into a public trash can and hurried on. Mounting up on Hector, Naomi turned to follow me as I led the way. Home awaited me.

If I could still call it home.

Even taking the back ways, it was only another five minutes to my house at our pace. A hill ran along behind the row of homes, and the thick bed of leaves squished under our hooves as we rode up to the backyard. Dodging around toys left there by Amelia, I walked up to the back porch and surmounted the stairs, my ears and eyes swiveling as I searched to be sure no one was watching. Other homes glowed with light, but ours was dark, and no one who wasn't expressly looking into our backyard would have seen the two horses and young girl approaching.

Leaving Hector at the base of the steps, Naomi joined me and unlatched the gate. My keys were presented to her in my mouth, and she popped open the back door while I judiciously scraped my hooves clean on the rug. So doing, I entered.

Were it not for our lack of supplies, I might have bypassed this trip entirely. While Naomi had been able to take some food for Hector—and me, technically—food for a human was decidedly lacking in a stable, and someone would have noticed her sneaking into and out of the kitchen.

That same overwhelming sadness washed over me again, however, as we entered my home. Pictures of the family stared down from the walls and cabinets, and I didn't need to stretch my imagination much to imagine them glaring at me in disapproval. Who was I but a weird little interloper, now? I wasn't even of the same flesh as my kin anymore.

One who had lost her one and only sister.

While Naomi saw her way about the pantry, I went upstairs. The steps weren't hard to take. My legs were pretty versatile, and most of the night had been spent getting used to them. I nosed open the door to Amelia's room and padded around in the dark like a fuzzy burglar.

Laying my head on her bed for a moment, I sighed. "I'll get you back," I promised the empty room before opening my eyes. Two blue, gleaming eyes stared back at me over a forked tongue, and I jumped back, startled. It became apparent, looking closer, that it was just Amelia's favorite toy—a white snake plush named Asmodeus, Slayer of Mice. My sister had always been a little weird.

It would be pathetic if I started bawling like a little girl right there. Just started tearing up and sniffling and hugging a toy to my chest and crying my little heart out. I wouldn't be that pitiable.

Once I was done not being that pitiable, I put Asmodeus into a saddlebag and went back into the upstairs hallway. There were other things we were going to need, so I went into my room next. A flick of my tail clicked the light switch on with its tip—which was pretty fun, actually. A tail _could_ come in handy now and then, it seemed. That was worth a grin at least. Opening the closet, I pushed aside a stack of books and dragged a box out with my mouth. There was a tag on the cardboard slats that read: _Sealed Forever_.

"Okay, Daphne," I murmured to encourage myself, putting a hoof on top of it. "It's just another part of that past you tried so hard to bury. You know, how a therapist and your parents convinced you that you were crazy. The part Naomi said it was okay for you to have now."

I looked up into the mirrored surface of my closet, at the wide, green eyes of a unicorn. Long seconds passed as I drank in the reality. I shoved the top of the box in and broke the seal with a slice of my hoof, prying the two sides open and freeing the contents within.

Memories poured out, filling the air with dusty reminiscence. A laughing, happy little girl, full of life, bounced on the bed. Action figures, army men, and playsets sprawled across the floor, while she envisioned titanic battles and elaborate romances playing out across time and space, contained in the impossibly vast universe of my bedroom. She hung upside-down and watched Star Wars on the little TV and VHS player until she knew the whole series backwards. I could see every little freckle on her as she put together a model airplane on her desk, a magnifying lens swelling her face into immensity.

"Pandora, eat your heart out," I mumbled, digging through the box as more memories danced around me. I tried not to focus on the toys, knowing I could be here all night, reliving my childhood, if I let myself. Instead, I fit my hooves in and pulled out a camo-textured case. A solid, sensible survival kit, freshly stocked in anticipation of my next and greatest adventure. "One I'm about to make eight years late."

"What was that?" Naomi asked from the door, and I jumped, automatically shoving the kit into my empty saddlebag as if I were hiding something shameful. "Oh, hey, is that your Hoth playset? I wondered where that had gone!"

"I just wanted to get some things," I stammered, busying myself with my saddlebag for a moment. I closed the box, but I wouldn't have sealed it again even if I had the tape to do it with. I didn't want to bury my childhood ever again. Still, there was nothing to do but shove it back into the closet with my head for now. It would have to wait until I had finished something far more important.

"Do you think any of these would fit?" Naomi asked, starting to leaf through my clothing with her normal, cavalier manner towards my stuff.

"Well, my panties burst right off, and I don't know what happened to my earrings." I snorted and shook my head. "My clothes weren't fitting right when I got out of the river."

"That doesn't mean nothing here will, and what if it's cold over there? You don't want to freeze."

"Is this a thinly veiled excuse to dress me up?" I asked, my eyes narrow as I hopped up on my bed and crossed my forelegs in front of me.

"...no," she said after half a beat, her expression blank, as she approached me with a hat. "Put this on"

Reluctantly, I submitted, for her excuse was reasonable. I may have had a warm coat, and running warmed me up pretty well, but I obviously wasn't immune to cold.

As a pouty pony clothes horse, I was a distressingly marketable little thing, which Naomi's giggling and carrying on proved. My closet served as a full-length mirror, and I shrugged into various different shirts and jackets and skirts. Nothing in that vein fit, and I rebelled when I saw Naomi's camera resting on my desk, taking in the whole thing.

Dragged back in by my rear ankles, I groused but let her adorn me with hats and combs. What did end up working was a rain poncho and some of my winter scarves, as well as a small selection of knit caps. It was hard to keep from giggling at the sight myself—if I wasn't careful, _I_ might start to like looking like this. We packed away the poncho on top of the wrapped up scarves and hats. One saddlebag was nearly full, and so I endeavored to fill the other by heading downstairs and finding where Naomi had laid out the food.

She turned out the lights upstairs and went to root through the rest of the building, in search of anything else useful. Spying some cans and other packages of ready-to-eat food on the kitchen table, I packed my remaining bag by the simple expedient of putting a foreleg on the table and sweeping the lot off the edge, then packing it in.

Safety was soon to die, however, when I heard the crunch of tires on asphalt, and headlights swept over the big kitchen window. I gaped and stared at the digital clock on the microwave. "No, it's only nine-twenty, what're you doing home early?" I demanded of the air uselessly.

"Come on, Daph, we've got to go!" Naomi barked at me from the stairs.

Much as having to comically flee from well-meaning persecutors for yet another time tonight would have been par for the course, I shook my head. "No, they'll freak out if they hear someone pounding away, or if they come home and find Em and I aren't here, we need to... ah." I hesitated, tossing a trailing end of my dragon-patterned scarf over my neck.

A car door slammed, and I could see bags. That explained the earliness—if Father's reflux was acting up, he would have just gotten some take out. It might have been a good sign, if he was too annoyed to pay attention to things. Or argue with his daughter and her friend.

I retreated to the family room in the back, Naomi at my heels. "We're going to have to trick them, or they'll never sleep right and call the police besides."

"Oh, a distraction! Fun!" She clapped her hands gleefully and went off to the entryway.

"Naomi!" I hissed, but could only dance on my hooves helplessly as she ran off.

The door opened, and I heard my mother ask, her tone surprised, "Naomi? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Mrs. O.!" Naomi said brightly. "Nice to see you, too!"

Taking advantage of her distraction, I went out back, picking up my saddlebags and—

My mouth snapped on empty air. _Crap_. I had left them in the kitchen, and forgotten to take them with me when I ran back here.

"Yes," Mother responded cautiously, "it's nice to see you, too. Where is Daphne?" I could hear her jewelry tapping against the stand in the entryway as I darted across the family room to the kitchen, vaulting the coffee table. I had to skid to a halt with all four legs splayed ahead of me when the light there came on, flooding the tiled room with illumination.

"Around, she and I just came by for a couple things."

"A couple things? Just you two?" Mother asked, her heels clicking on the hardwood. I carefully peeked and saw Father putting boxes in the fridge. My mouth watered involuntarily—I saw a cake among those boxes. A cake neither I nor Amelia would be trying.

"Yeah, Amy and Daph stopped by my place, and Amy was so-_o_ tired she just fell over on my bed and didn't want to get up," Naomi lied with the effortless grace only a true daddy's girl could muster. "I figured they'd stay the weekend. It's okay with Mom and Dad; we never have enough people around."

It was no difficulty at all to picture Mother giving Naomi a sour look, her hands on her hips. She would look so elegant in one of her evening gowns, with her blond hair swept up. I ignored the image and crept forward with remarkable stealth for someone with hard hooves, picking the bags up in my mouth.

"Daphne?" Father asked, and I nearly jumped out of my skin right then. I looked, but his face was concealed by the open fridge door.

Shrugging under the strap so that the bags rode on my back, I answered, "Uh, yes, Dad?"

I had to step softly to leave, lest the noise attract his attention, watching the refrigerator as if it contained a slavering ooze monster that was about to burst out and devour me. "You make sure Amelia doesn't get hurt out there, all right?"

Oh, Father. Of all the things to ask.

"Yes, Daddy," I promised, my throat tight, and ran as soon as my hooves touched carpet.

Fleeing back over the coffee table, I pushed through the back door and took off across the backyard. I heard Naomi coming after me as I slid down the hill, and, when she leapt onto Hector's back, we took off at once towards the forest, leaving my home and family behind me.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

Now we see the fate that befell Daphne and introduce our first supporting character, Naomi, who will be with us for the long haul, even if she won't (be planned to) receive her own perspective. She may be just a Little Too Into This for Daphne's comfort.

Look forward to Chapter 3, where we see what's going on with Amelia and Daphne discovers a new ally in her quest to save her sister!

Be sure to follow the original on FimFiction here: story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


	3. Chapter 3 - Over the River

Chapter 3: Over the River

**"A whip for the horse, a bridle for the donkey, and a rod for the fool's back." Proverbs 26:3**

**Amelia**

I couldn't bear it any more.

It was awful. Darkness was everywhere. My skin felt covered in pins and needles. Aches shot up my muscles from being held so still. My head throbbed. There was no worse agony than what I was going through right now.

"Can I look now?" I begged, still holding my eyes shut.

"In just a moment more, wee bairn," the Morgwyn's sandy voice breathed my way, as patient as the stars. "Keep the eyes shut and abide."

If there was anything worse in the whole world than having to wait and do nothing, I didn't want to know about it. Before, I had been certain that waiting for the dentist was the worst torment anyone could come up with, but I had to come down on this new torture now. Waiting for someone to do real magic was way, way harder. Worse, the Morgwyn was right in front of me every time I tried to peek, so there was no relief there.

I twisted and started to hum the theme to my favorite show, hoping that would speed things up as I rocked back and forth on my feet. Little bangs and irritated voices were audible at the edge of my hearing, and I was getting frustrated. I opened my mouth, setting myself. "Okay, I'm going to open my eyes whether you like it or not!"

"Oh? Why did you not do so before, bairn?" it asked in that infuriatingly calm voice. "The Morgwyn only asked it of you. Do you do all that is merely asked of you?"

Stamping my foot, I opened my mouth to give the cat-thing a good tongue lashing. Once my eyes were open, however, whatever bitter comment I had prepared died on my lips as they widened into an astonished and soundless "oh."

Laying like a glittering river of gold, a path of shiny yellow bricks stretched into the distance. Lamps placed to either side, much like the curved and twisty one back in the woods, curled over the path and lent the whole thing a gentle glow that made it seem so unearthly in the night. Without my realizing it, an entire stagecoach had materialized beside me, as well. It made me jump back in surprise upon discovering it, having nearly bumped my nose into the thing as I turned about, taking in the golden road. The coach had arrived so stealthily that I hadn't heard its approach, or else it had simply appeared there out of thin air.

There were no horses or engines mounted to the front. One of the strange men from before was sitting anxiously on the driver's step. I frowned at this, somewhat concerned. He looked different this time, wearing a rich, thick suit of black, embroidered in gold. With his bowler hat, the effect was more charming than his raggedy old garb from before had allowed. Perhaps I had been unfair when I thought he and the others like him looked dangerous—what if they had been protecting me from that strange, screaming creature? Flashes of that barely seen attacker came to mind. Before anything had really happened, the Morgwyn had snatched me up by my satchel's strap and hauled me away to safety, but the sounds of the fight had been pretty brutal.

With a smile, I looked around, brushing at some fireflies that tried to settle in my hair. "It's like a page from a storybook."

"'Tis your story, lass," another of the men said, opening the door to the inside of the coach. He had on the same outfit as the other one before him, though his head had a bandage wrapped about it.

"Oh, your poor head!" I exclaimed in mock concern. "Did that horrible monster hurt you badly?" Without giving any warning, I tugged his big head lower and pecked the fresh bandages, giggling. "You must have been very brave getting that wound! You should be proud."

He blushed, as I knew he would, and doffed his cap to scratch at his mud-colored hair. "Well, er... it was nothin'," he mumbled. I grinned wider. A little flattery butters any adult up.

Another hand hauled him aside, the third of the large men appearing and giving the injured one a sour look. My eyes were instantly drawn to the length of gnarled wood he had left inside the carriage, leaning against the back wall, but it wasn't glowing or doing anything special at the moment. It seemed deceptively innocent as it lay there, though I distinctly remembered its owner lighting up the entire woods with it before. After the Morgwyn, it was the first real magic I had seen.

"My lady," he offered, trying to smooth his rough voice out and touching the tip of a top hat atop his head. "If you will join us, your castle awaits. We can carry you to it forthwith."

That blanked out everything else, my attention snapping to him. "A castle?" I asked breathlessly. "With murder holes and crenellations and everything? I want to see the murder holes first!"

The man blinked at that, apparently surprised, and pulled his friend aside for a quick, whispered conference. The Morgwyn chortled and stretched its wide shoulders, before reaching up to snap a firefly out of the air with one gleaming claw, snuffing the insect's light. Each of the three men murmured amongst themselves in hushed tones, the man with the head wound blinking rapidly, the man with the fancy cloak grumbling in a gravelly voice, the man with the wand gesticulating wildly, and each of them glancing at me now and then. "Yes," the wand-wielder agreed after his discussion, turning to me, "lots of those things. It's powerful enchanted, too. Loads of magical creatures, proper tidy it is."

"Is there a magical ice queen who turns people to stone?"

"We got a king," the man with the head wound informed me proudly, his broad, flat-toothed grin excited. "He's mighty powerful." The other man cuffed him, and he yelped, looking miffed.

"Yes, well, you'll meet him in good time. If'n you play your cards right, y'might get to meet a princess or two," Wand-wielder informed me, and that was good enough for me. I hopped in and started bouncing on the seats. They were soft leather, but just firm enough to be satisfyingly springy.

The injured one went to stand on the step. The Morgwyn, on its way in, gave him a very sharp looking smile before sitting at my feet, between me and Wand-wielder. He prudently lifted his feet to keep them out of the cat's way, while I stuck my head out the window like a dog.

As Driver flicked his riding crop, the carriage jolted and moved of its own accord, forcing me to grip the window frame to stay steady. "Doesn't even pause to admire the scrollwork in here," Wand-wielder muttered under his breath, low enough that I didn't think I was supposed to hear, but I ignored him. I was admiring the scenery and trying to find out how the cart worked. There was no engine noise and no clopping of invisible hooves, and it felt as if the wheels were moving of their own accord.

As the carriage began to clatter along the stones, I heard the creaking and groaning of wood and whipped my head to peer the way we had come. Though it was hard to see, I swear the trees along the path were getting up and _moving_. It was as if they had come apart into blocks, then reassembled to bar the path, forming a thick line of foliage. "Hey, what's going on back there? Why did they block the path?"

"So the monster can't find us again," Wand-wielder assured me, touching the narrow length of wood I had named him after as if for his own peace of mind. He shifted in his seat and leaned against the frame, which was, in fact, inlaid with some pretty intricate scroll work. Pretty carvings weren't _that_ interesting, though.

"Oh! That makes sense," I said, and went back to staring out at the path. Fireflies flew up in great clouds of light in our wake and the trees grew closer together, more tightly knit. The coach picked up speed, and I felt the wind of its passage blow my hair back, moving faster and faster. It wasn't a car ride, certainly, but it was pretty fast.

Back inside, Wand-wielder was watching me with his lidded eyes in a curious gaze. "What's up?" I asked him, turning back inside the carriage. Smoothing my hair back from my forehead, I tucked it into my hoodie.

He glanced up at the ceiling, answering, "Mahogany, by the look of it."

That earned him an eyeroll. "No, no, I wanted to know what was on your mind!"

"Seems I recalled human girls being a little more retiring than you, lass." He frowned at me.

Retiring? I didn't know whether to be offended or baffled. I settled for distracted instead. "Amelia, not 'lass.'"

"Err, okay?" That made him lean back, giving me a steady look. Really, you'd think he'd be easier to catch off guard.

Actually, now that I paid attention to him, he seemed to be extremely nervous. Not only was he clutching his wand like it was a live hand grenade, he was also fiddling with his coat in a way that suggested he wasn't used to the fit. Something that lay ahead was leaving him unsettled.

"So," I began to ask, plopping back down into my seat, "what do you mean by 'human' girl? If you aren't a human, what are you? Or is it just a funny way of saying you're a guy and I'm a girl?"

"Why, I'm a goblin, 'course. Isn't it obvious?" he exclaimed. The look he gave me was not very flattering.

"Like from _The Hobbit?_"

"What? What's a—no, never mind. We're goblins, us three," he informed me proudly, thumping his chest. "A proud and noble kind!" He settled back, apparently intending to leave it at that, but I gave him my best wide-eyed look of interest. After a moment, his resistance faltered, and he continued. "We serve the great kings. We're the best minions anyone could ask for."

"Great kings?" I asked, wide-eyed.

Wand-wielder coughed, as if he had something in his throat. He banged on the wall behind him, the one with the driver's seat, and the carriage picked up in speed, rocking hard on the rough road. We took a turn fast enough to smoosh me against the wall, and I could see a river running alongside us. I had to grip the frame hard not to fly forward when the carriage stopped. The door opened, and I sprang out, excited, looking for the castle.

"Hey!" I protested. "What gives?"

The river spread out before us, reflecting the moon's glow in gleaming silver sparks. There was no castle in sight, the road simply ending at the water. The forest on the other side was different, with leafy fronds and no pines to be seen. Above all, however, there were no castles, kings, nor princesses of any stripe.

"The castle lies just down that road, but you can't go just yet," the injured one told me, hopping down off the cab step.

"Why?" I queried, looking down to the river. "It doesn't look that swift." I took a step towards it, preparing to make a leap.

The goblin yelped and grabbed my arm, shouting, "No!" He hauled me back a step, panting. "Be more than my head's worth to let you do that. It looks calm now, but it'll sweep ya away in an instant if'n you go as you are."

"As I am?" I asked, miffed. What, was I too dirty? I surreptitiously sniffed at my armpit.

"No son nor daughter of mortal man may cross the threshold of sanctum land," the Morgwyn purred, slinking up along a fallen log over the river. It trailed a paw in the water, bringing up sparkling droplets. Each looked as though they had a tiny moon contained within them. I reached for the water myself in curiosity, but then stopped, the cryptic warning making me hesitate.

"Whatever that means, how am I supposed to get across to see the castle?" I asked, "and why can't, uh, humans go across?" Rising, I turned to look at the goblins. The stage coach had been pulled up to the end of the road and all three goblins were together. The tallest, Wand-wielder, held his namesake in hand. The gnarled wood hummed softly.

"Got that covered. Rules laid down in the old times are funny in a way. They don't brook disagreement, but they're very particular about wording." Electric blue fire curled up the wand as he spoke, and, before I could really frame an objection, he had pointed the end at me. That fire filled my vision.

The blast had tossed me aside like a rag doll. Stars danced around me as I came to, trying to pick myself up off the ground, but my legs weren't working properly. Somehow, I rolled onto my back and managed to sit myself upright, but my struggles were largely useless; it felt as though I was being squeezed, like a bunch of giant rubber bands had been wrapped around me and were pulling in every direction. There was an incredible feeling of heat, a baking sensation that started in my bones and radiated outwards. It felt as though there _should_ have been incredible pain, that my blood should have been sizzling under my skin like a pork sausage.

Pressure built. My head felt swollen, and I flopped my hands at my face, trying to feel what was wrong. I stared in shock, realizing at once why I had had trouble standing up. My fingers weren't coming apart. They were squished together so tightly they were trembling and white, and I felt them squeezing tighter still, in defiance of biological possibility. The flesh there bulked up, starting to swell alarmingly, red and angry with inflammation. Tiny hairs sprouted rapidly, covering my mutating hands in a soft fuzz that turned a creamy beige. It failed to cover my nails, which were turning a similar shade of beige, as well, and melting together like wax.

There was a twisting in my gut, and I keeled over. My spine buckled, deciding that it didn't really like sitting up. Bones cracked noisily, sending weirdly painless jolts throughout my body. Sick gurgling noises and an alien sensation of pressure signalled my guts shoving themselves around. An attempt to stand up again on my numb legs was cut short when a totally wicked snap echoed up from my hips, making my legs flop uselessly behind me as I lay on my belly. Shoulders popped and rotated forcibly, pushing my arms under me even as they grew shorter and stubbier. Somewhere at my backside, I could feel a cramping at my rear, followed by what could only be described as a peculiar tingling, itching sensation, like someone was drawing a needle out.

Next came an awful sense of compression. The invisible bands around me tightened and pulled harder, hauling until I felt as though blood should have squirted out over the road, eliciting a plaintive groan that echoed up from my burning lungs. All around me, the world seemed to grow, as if the goblins and the carriage were growing taller rather than _me_ growing shorter. The clothes on my body swallowed me up and tangled my shortened limbs as my neck inched forward, pushing my head out from my body.

Pressure built up around my nose and mouth, changing up the tenor of my whimpers. With my sinuses swollen and impassable, I had to breathe noisily through my mouth, even as it changed. Hot, steamy breath poured out with each uncomfortable gasp. Rolling my eyes down, I found a snout where my mouth should have been, my nostrils pushed to either side as the little hairs grew into a thick coat. My ears twitched of their own accord, and I realized that they had moved without my notice. They flopped this way and that before going uncomfortably erect, straining.

Even as my body cooled and hope rose that it might be the end of the ordeal, there was one final step. It was as if someone had taken a bore to my skull, grinding away skin, muscle, and bone to find the juicy brains beneath. There the sensation settled, swirling around and thickening until it formed a tight knot. That lump then began to grow, pushing out. For once, there _was_ a spike of pain, but not in the same sense that someone might describe a cut or a prick. It was like listening to an audio spike, so loud it stings, a burst of static so powerful you just want to cover your ears and hide. This noiseless not-sound built up around my forehead, rising in pitch until it mercifully passed out of my perception entirely, the throbbing ache fading with it.

When the power that had gripped me faded at last, I lay on my belly and gasped for air for a few moments. There should have been sweat puddling underneath me from all the heat, but the air stirred hair that was cool and dry. The aches went away with the stiffness, the angry swelling fading as if it had never been.

Squirming, I freed myself from my clothing and found my footing. All four legs—yes, four—were as wobbly as a newborn foal's. My braid hung down one side, riding over my shoulder and dangling to my new knees.

"Whoa," I breathed, my eyes huge.

With little clopping noises accompanying my new hooves as I turned a circle, I got a good look at myself. Soft, beige hair covered nearly every inch of me, and behind me swished a long, fluffy, blond tail that arched high and then fell to the earth, nearly touching it. Stubby legs ended in hard hooves I could feel tapping against the golden bricks. I peeked up between my bangs to see a short, pale horn sticking through them.

"Now, try not to be angry, we—" Bandages began, raising his hands apologetically.

"Sweet flaming asteroids! I'm a unicorn!"

"Uh—"

"This is so cool!" I shouted. I bounded excitedly, hopping along on all fours around the increasingly befuddled goblins. "And Mom told me magic wasn't real. Eat it, Mom! I told you wishing on stars would work eventually!"

The Morgwyn barked a coughing laugh while the goblins exchanged glances. Wand-wielder jerked his head to the stage coach, and Driver and Bandages returned to their places, with the latter holding the door open. I hopped back in and settled on the seat, laying on it like a cat might, a grin nearly splitting my face. Getting used to four legs wasn't difficult at all. Outside, spray shot up from the wheels as the coach shot across the river, carrying me forward to whatever may lay beyond.

"So what other things can you do with that wand?" I asked, tucking my tail around me and running a hoof through it, reveling in the sensation of an alien limb. The hairs were soft, but stiffer than my mane, giving them a curiously silky smooth texture. "Can you turn big sisters into bugs? Because I know someone who would be improved _immensely_ by that. I would also accept snakes, crocodiles, or arachnids, but not daddy long legs. That would be weird."

"Why would—"

"Because it has _daddy_ in the name, duh. Can you do dragons? No, wait, that would be _way_ too cool for her..." I trailed off, trying to think of a good species of serpent.

Trees blurred by in our passage, replaced by views of a dark sky with low, mobile clouds. Far away, catching silvery moonlight, stood the thick, squat towers of a castle keep. We raced towards it, taking a winding road through misty woods.

_This, _I told myself, _is going to be awesome._

The moon hung fat and yellow behind the castle towers as I strode towards the gates, my head held high and my hooves striking the paving stones proudly. Silhouettes of windmill blades, protruding from the castle turrets and all around us upon towers and rooftops of dimly lit homes, rotated lazily against the night sky. A stone bridge spanned a great canyon, and an enormous water wheel turned at the cliffside where a waterfall washed down into the depths.

A crooked arch held the great gates, and the Morgwyn waited by the ugly, bird-headed gargoyles overlooking the bridge, the cat-monster's blue eyes gleaming in the dark. Wand-wielder pounded on the door while I looked around curiously. I glanced up when a little dust fell near me, and could have sworn the gargoyles had shifted to stare down at me.

A slot in the gates slammed open, allowing a pair of jaundiced eyes to glare out at my escort. "What?" an older woman's voice demanded, raspy and annoyed, "Who is it? Fetter, is that you? What hour do you call this?"

"We're here with the girl, Dooris," Fetter announced, with a note of pride. It had never occurred to me that Wand-wielder might have had a name, but I supposed if an awesome cat monster had one it only stood to reason. I sat on my haunches and watched this exchange curiously. It was becoming increasingly obvious that something odd was going on, though they all seemed friendly enough.

The eyes swiveled to look at me, and then back to Fetter. "A little late, aren't we? I seem to recall the King telling you not to come back. Lot of fireworks involved with it." Her raw voice chuckled.

"Unless I had the girl," he hissed in return, glancing at me. "You know, the 'special guest.'"

I beamed back.

"It's more than my head is worth to let you in here on a false positive, Fetter. That could be any pony foal," Dooris answered.

"Swear it, she's a human, fits it to every possible measure." He gestured my way, sweeping his hand. "Just look at her closely, it all fits!"

The yellow eyes turned towards me again, narrowing slightly. "Well," the dry voice conceded, grudgingly, "the hair's the right color. So's the eyes."

"Right smell, too."

"I do not smell!" I objected, stamping a hoof, but they ignored me.

"I don't know, Fetter. It all looks like her, nice'n'tidy, but it's been a while. How fast do humans grow?"

"Not sure, honestly," he admitted, arching a brow. "It hasn't been all that long."

"Hey!" I shouted, this time getting their attention as I stood up. "I'll have you know I have a tenth grade reading level!"

They chewed over that one, pulling back into a huddled conference by the door. I perked one of my ears, listening in as well as I could. "Can you read?" "No." "...a little, I mean..." "What's a...?" "...get the foreman..." "...can't... just do it!"

They turned back towards me, and I feigned innocence, inspecting my forehoof for scratches. A heavy sigh emitted from the door, and Dooris spoke. "All right, all right. Mark me, though, Fetter, this ain' my fault if it goes pear-shaped."

"Just tell everyone to get ready," he hissed at her. The slot slammed shut, and I waited. The night had, so far, been a jerky mixture of surprises and odd, confused pauses. On the one hand—or hoof—it was pretty clear by now that these goblins didn't entirely have it together. On the other hoof, though, it was still a magical land of wonder. Dad always warned never to let your expectations get in the way of your enjoyment. Still, on yet another hoof, I was getting tired, and it would be nice to take a break and stretch out for a bit.

Shoving a hoof into my mouth to stifle a yawn, I began to lay myself out to take a quick nap, but a loud banging from within the keep startled me. It sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before, so much as every single possible tool being used at once. All banging and saws and odd whirring whizzes.

"This better be good." I sniffed disdainfully. "You guys have been a little disappointing so far! Except you, Morg. Can I call you Morg?"

"The Morgwyn is what it is, bairn," it said, dropping down beside me. "No name given by your tongue changes that."

I closed my mouth, realizing I had been yawning again. I lay my head down between my hooves and curled my tail up beside me, getting comfortable. I was just going to lay down for a little while longer. It had been such a long night. The Morgwyn's body radiated heat into the night, warming my side.

When my eyes shut, it felt as though the ground fell out beneath me. Sleep waited below.

* * *

**Daphne**

A swollen moon watched the quiet earth as we trotted into the trailhead. The distance was finally starting to catch up to me, but a lot less than I had feared it would. I waved a hoof in the air, slumping on a bench by the trail sign and post board overlooking the western parking lot. My breath steamed in the air, and I was grateful for the scarf and hat keeping at least a little warmth in.

Hector was eager to continue, but Naomi hopped off anyway, clipping lights to his harness and taking another, a heavier floodlight, out for herself. I got up to continue, but she waved me off, chiding, "You rest, for at least a few minutes."

Acquiescing, I settled back down, letting my breathing ease and shutting my eyes. It would only be for a moment.

The sudden bark of an engine jerked me back awake, though my limbs were sore and slow to respond. Groggily, I realized I had fallen asleep, the cough of a motorcycle rousing me. My ears twitched, and I lifted my head sleepily, glancing about. I frowned and squinted at the light as it approached. Stiff and panicky, I got up quakily to hide and stumbled behind the trail sign.

Peeking under the sign, I drew in a breath with a hiss as recognition flared. "Naomi!" I snapped at her. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"We need help, Daphne!" she implored me, confirming her guilt. "I called him before leaving my place."

"What did you say? Tell him to go away! I don't need _his_ help." My ears lay back.

Naomi shook her head. "We _do_. He knows how to fight. He can shoot a gun. He likes Em."

"Which only proves he's insane!" My hoof stamped the earth. "Your cousins can use guns."

"None of them are very _stable_," Naomi growled. "Look, Daphne, your ex-boyfriend is coming with us whether you like it or not."

Raising myself up to continue the argument proved fruitless. Naomi ignored me by turning around, smoothing her hair back, and fixing her hat as the young man on the motorcycle came to a stop nearby. I am absolutely not vindictive, which is why it was honest when I thought he looked like an ugly, good-for-nothing, too tall, leather-bound idiot.

"Hey, tall, dark, and handsome." Naomi smiled winsomely, belying my inner thoughts.

"That's all right, princess," he replied as he pulled off his helmet. "You can just call me Marcus." I narrowed my gaze and glared at him, hoping that I had some sort of unicorn magic that could cook him where he stood. Get a nice bacon scent going, searing him into his stupid black leather jacket. There would be a strong whiff of romano, too, for his damned cheesy lines.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I can only keep up the faux flirting thing for so long."

"So what's the emergency?" He tucked his helmet under his arm. "I can count on one hand the number of times a beautiful girl has asked me to come somewhere in the middle of the night with all the guns I could borrow or steal."

"Oh, really? How many other times?" Naomi tilted her head.

"Once, but it was a misunderstanding." Marcus walked the bike forward towards the trees.

"It definitely isn't this time," she said. "There's a problem, a _big_ problem." She put her hands behind her back, rocking a bit on her heels. "We—I need your help."

"I gathered." His jaw tensed, and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Look, Nay, you're drawing this out a lot and making me nervous. What's the big deal?"

"Amelia is in trouble."

"Lil' Anteater? What, did she get stuck in a tree chasing a butterfly?" He grinned tightly. Naomi looked at him, silent. He went on, trying to save the stupid joke. "And you need me to... shoot the butterfly?" Oh, I hated him and his stupid, lame jokes! Why did I ever think he was charming? I must have been drugged or ensorcelled.

"No. That was terrible by the way, but no." Naomi sucked in her breath, bracing. "Em was kidnapped."

Marcus swore and nearly ran over his own foot with the bike. "Do the police know? What does us being out here have to do with anything? Wait, did Daphne put you up to this? Is she here right now with a camera or something?"

"By monsters."

"Yeah, okay." His tone was heated. Shouting, he called into the nearby woods. "Okay, Daphne, you can come out now! I'm not playing along with any sick games, so just give up and show yourself."

"Well," I said with an airy tone myself. "Sure. You win."

I stepped out into the light.

Marcus said nothing. The silence went on. I spread my smile into a slow, smug grin. Maybe this whole transformation thing was worth it to see this. Naomi and Hector began to scuff their feet at the scene.

"Naomi," Marcus asked, not taking his eyes off of me, "did you slip me some LSD? Is this some sort of contact high?"

"Just say no to drugs," she sang. Hector nickered in agreement.

"So uh," Marcus said, "nice horn."

"Thanks!" I tossed my mane and pointed the tip of the horn at him. "It's sharper than it looks."

Marcus quirked a grin. "Always knew you were a bit pent up, but I never knew you were secretly a furry."

"I will _cut_ you—"

"Guys!" Naomi shouted, cutting into the fight just as it was getting good. "Amelia. Kidnapped by horrible monsters."

My cheeks reddened—which surprised me; it hadn't occurred that I was still capable of that—as I scraped the ground hard, staring at Marcus' shoes. The memory of those strange men flashed into my mind. Each of them was far stronger than I was. Even getting the drop on them, I had been unable to wrest so much as a stick free from them. Then there was that cat. There was no telling what it might have been able to do if it had tried to stop me, as well.

For his part, Marcus was glancing off into the woods. Without a doubt, he was trying to process the giant bomb we had just dropped on him; unless he thought I was wearing a very convincing costume, he knew that his entire world had just been upturned.

"Marcus—"

"Daphne—"

We paused, having spoken over one another. I spoke up again, quickly, to get the first word in. "I know we aren't going to get along, and I hate to say it, but Naomi is right. These things... we can't fight them without weapons. The police can't help us, before you ask again, because I think—I _know_—that they've gone to another world entirely."

"How do you know that?" Marcus asked. There were many questions in his eyes, but he had to start somewhere.

"Because I think I was in one already. I wasn't really paying attention at first, but the moon was wrong. It was a full moon, even. There was a _creature_ with them, something that wasn't natural, with glowing eyes that these men were utterly terrified about. The men..." I licked my dry lips, remembering that it had been a while since my last drink of water. "I don't think they were _human_, either. Shorter, thicker, with rough skin. They wore clothing that belonged in the nineteenth century and carried old weapons. They aren't from Earth."

I lifted a hoof, looking at it with pursed lips. "Neither are the things... the people that look like me. I met a unicorn, just like I am now, eight years ago."

"And you never mentioned this fact, why?"

I spoke to my hoof, still unused to the sight. "I did. I landed in therapy because of it. They told me that everything I had thought real was a lie. They did it because they cared about me, and were concerned about me, and I _believed_ them." The way my voice throbbed left me feeling disturbingly vulnerable.

Leaving that landmine undisturbed, Marcus leaned against his bike. "Okay, so. Assuming this isn't the best prank ever played in the history of mankind, you want me to go with you into a dark forest in the middle of the night to chase down monsters no one has ever seen before to a world you believe in because you had a friend you were told is imaginary to rescue your kidnapped baby sister?"

"Yes." My gaze shifted to the ground in front of his feet, my head lowered and ears drooping. "Yes, that is what I am asking."

Marcus kicked the stand for his bike and paced away. He stared off into the woods, running a hand through his dark hair. I watched, tugging at my scarf for lack of anything better to do. It was hard to fidget without actual hands. I even took a step forward, my hooves clicking on the pavement, but thought better of approaching him.

When he turned back, he fixed me with a finger. "If this is a trick, I am going to _skin_ you and make a horsehide jacket. Do you get me?"

"Yeah, classy like—" I snapped my jaws shut, nearly biting my tongue. After a pause, I went on. "Fine, whatever. Are you helping us or not?"

"I'm doing this because your sister is a great kid. Not because of you," he insisted.

Lifting my head, I looked right at him. "That's great. So am I."

We met gazes for a moment before he turned his face and nodded. "Let me stash my bike somewhere. Meet down the trail?"

"Sure." I sighed. After a beat, I added, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well. Thank me when this is over," he muttered as he fired his bike up again. He turned it and rode back away from the park, calling as he rode off. "And if someone steals my bike, it's coming out of your hide!"

"I want it to be stated for the record, Naomi; I _hate_ you," I said, though my tone held no real malice.

"Noted!"

That settled, I turned and walked along the trail. Hector and Naomi followed a moment later, the latter leading the former rather than riding him, to preserve his strength no doubt.

As we waited, my tension had grown to the point where the familiar night cry of a loon nearly made me dive under a park bench. I settled for pacing, trotting in a circle around the gazebo. Naomi watched me for a while before groaning and throwing her hands up in disgust.

When he came, he was easy to spot at least. Though I knew he had been camping, he wasn't a big outdoor person like Naomi was. A case for a hunting rifle was slung over one shoulder, and he was openly carrying a nine millimeter handgun on one hip. He had another case under one arm, which I assumed was another rifle, a shotgun, ammunition, or a combination thereof. It was a bit of a risk for him to carry all of that in plain view—if a park official saw him, he could be in fantastic trouble.

"I'm here, we can start the party," he called, not making it any harder for said officials to find him.

"Why am I suddenly hungry for cheese again?" I asked no one in particular, and made a gagging gesture with my hoof in my mouth when Naomi looked my way.

"Let's get going." Naomi rolled her eyes. She was going to end up doing a lot of that before this journey was done if that was enough to set her off. "Daphne, you lead. Fill us in on the way, all right? All the details you know and think might be the slightest bit relevant."

A snort told her what I thought of her attempts, but I obliged. The trip back to the grove was a long way, and talking would help settle my nerves. I began heading west and north, keeping to a walk for now. Without riding a horse, Marcus couldn't keep up, and it would be petty to leave him behind. Though it was very tempting to make him run.

"There's not a lot I haven't already told you," I grumbled as we crossed the bridge into the woods, my and Hector's hooves clacking noisily against the wood, "but all right." For the third time that night, I would have to unbury and relive my past, and it wasn't getting any easier. "When I was eight, I met a unicorn out here in the park. Her name was Leit Motif..."

As the trip progressed, the four of us heading deeper into the woods, I told Naomi and Marcus everything—what little I had the presence of mind as a child to inquire about, anyway. There were unicorn and pegasus ponies that lived in the magical land of Equestria. The name made Marcus snicker, which I felt oddly defensive about, as though they were indeed my people and my home. Next came everything I could remember of the conversation between the thugs, and I described that demon cat in detail—something the thugs had called a "Morgwyn."

Their questions, in return, were not very helpful. "Did they say where they were taking Em?" Naomi asked. Almost directly on top of her, Marcus asked, "What did they say they were going to do to her?" "How far is it to Equestria?" "Can anyone help us over _there?_" I wracked my brains, but couldn't think of anything particularly useful to fill in those blanks with. Naomi could sense my frustration, at least, and laid off, letting us continue in silence. So far this little adventuring party was getting off to a great start.

Every so often, I would gaze up to the sky to check our progress. Father and Amelia were more familiar with the stars than I was, but a changed moon was something even I could spot at a glance. It happened, appropriately enough, when I _wasn't_ paying attention, of course. Taking a low path through a ravine, we had hopped over the stream and started up the other side when Naomi gasped, staring up at the sky. I tilted my head up, and, sure enough, there was a completely full moon, as if we had just jumped half a week back in time.

"Okay, someone explain to me how no one noticed this before in this park," Marcus demanded, and I was pleased to see that he was looking a little wild-eyed. He looked around as if expecting to see a cat-monster come tearing out of the deep shadows.

"Can't help you there," I admitted. "Not many people come this way, however. I mean, you saw how much trouble Hector was having back there." I nodded towards the racing stallion, who was looking restless at his inability to tear loose and run. He wasn't built for this rough terrain, but it barely seemed to affect me, hopping from one rock to the next with greater surety than I had ever had as a young woman. Maybe unicorns were part mountain goat.

"It's still a state park in Massachusetts," he insisted. "Are you telling me the park rangers never come out this way?"

"Well," Naomi chimed in, coming to my aid, "sometimes hikers really are the first ones to stumble across places, especially in places with really wild geography. What we've seen isn't really that harsh, no, but there's always been something kind of weird about this park. There's old tales about it that the natives used to tell, and the colonials picked up on them."

"There are?" My eyes widened. "I never knew that!"

"Oh sure." Naomi nodded. "Crazy things like three-headed monsters or bear-men or strange lights. There's a whole website devoted to the mysteries of the Everfree Park. Like how it's really easy to get lost here, even if you have a good map and a compass."

I glowered at her. "You're only telling me this now because—?"

"I thought you knew! I mean, it's the first thing I would have done: looked the place up online."

Chewing over that, I looked up at the full moon. Speculation wouldn't bring me any closer to an answer, though. A forest that misled people and held the secret of another world was a mystery I wasn't going to unravel in a few minutes. How I was able to get through it and why me instead of another were questions for another time. Leit Motif crossed my mind, and an uncomfortable writhing stirred inside my chest.

I touched a hoof there and closed my eyes, whispering, "You always talked about the bonds of friendship, Leit. If there's any truth to all of this, please, please be there for me, in any small way."

A delicate hand touched against my back. Looking up to Naomi, I gave her a weak smile. "Almost there," I promised.

"Who the hell put that there?" Marcus yelled from up ahead. Like always, he had been utterly disinterested in our touching, sentimental moment and had gone off to explore. Rolling my eyes, I joined him, Naomi close behind, and we looked down over the ridge.

I frowned. Off in the distance, there was a light among the trees, casting a warm glow through the night shadows. "Dunno," I admitted. "I don't remember seeing this, but keep an eye out and stay quiet. We might be running into trouble." We fit actions to words and approached the light slowly, picking our way carefully through the thickening woods. The light, I discovered as we drew close, was a wrought-iron lantern hanging from a curved post, swinging softly in the the gentle breeze. I looked back to the others, the sight giving me pause. "I don't remember going this way. Let's turn back and keep going the way we were; if we need to, we'll mark our passage somehow, so we can find this place again if we need to."

Though curious, we all returned to the ravine and took the other way up, the one I recalled taking originally. The going here was rougher, and Naomi had to watch the ground with her flashlight for potholes while Hector complained. It was easy to mark trunks to keep track of our route by scraping bark away with my hooves. Sure, I knew Naomi had a knife or a hatchet stashed on Hector, and Marcus had probably brought a machete along with him. With everything that had been going on, though, with all the trouble I had caused, I wanted desperately to feel useful. We made good time for all that, regardless. The grove, I knew, lay just ahead.

Naomi wisely shut off her flashlight and Hector's harness lights as we neared the clearing. The fire from earlier had long since gone out—those thugs from before were long gone, and Amelia along with them. It was quiet, as well, but I still wanted to approach cautiously.

Rather than crawling over the hill that overlooked the grove, I led Naomi and Marcus around it, trying to keep low and out of sight. When we arrived, we crouched in the brush, watching and waiting for a few moments before pressing in.

Close up, the grove looked like a cross between a war zone and a lumber yard. Holes were gouged out of the ground, planks of perfectly sawn timber lay strewn at crazy angles, and the earth was nearly bare anywhere my struggle with the wand-wielding thug had taken place—or anywhere his wand had blasted the earth, transfiguring the fallen leaves littering the ground into a shower of white doves, but I didn't feel a pressing need to mention that.

"Damn," Marcus muttered. He had taken out his hunting rifle and held it low. Strangely, I felt as comforted by its presence as he apparently did.

"'Damn' is right." I felt uncertain, standing there among the trees and staring at the blasted earth. "I thought I'd died out there. I hope Amelia ran off, but I don't honestly know. I didn't see anything."

To his credit, Marcus didn't say anything. He opted instead to look the grove over and, to my astonishment, actually found something that might be of use. Bending down, he picked up a leather bag from near one of the holes. Faintly, I recalled where last I had seen it.

"Hey! That's the bag one of the thugs had!" I trotted over to the bag and examined it eagerly as he slipped the strap, opening it up. A couple moldy bits of cheese, needle and thread, a rusty knife, and a sheaf of papers exposed themselves to the light. Glancing at one another, we pulled the papers out and examined them with growing anticipation, then mild defeat.

Scrawled by hand, the script was in no language either of us recognized, let alone read. Squiggly lines and pictograms stared up from the page. There were pictures, but I had no real frame of reference to put them in. I kept looking for a theme or a message of some sort, but Naomi's triumphant cry of "Good news!" caught our attention.

My ears perked up. "You found Amelia?"

"Her feet, anyway. More properly, I found tracks!" She pointed towards the earth with her flashlight, and I glared at the ground, unable to prise loose its secrets. Rolling her eyes—again—Naomi flickered her light around, adding, in a tone that suggested we were both idiots, "The ground's been swept clean of leaves in lines heading parallel to one another. Duh." Her flashlight focused on an area near the side, where half a print was visible in the mud. "And unless one of them is a Nike fan with really tiny feet, Em is with them."

There was a _trail_ leading to Amelia. A bolt of lightning struck my brain.

Tension sawed inside me as I stared at the earth. My inner eye flowed along it in a great rush, to imagine what lay ahead for Amelia at the end of that line. It didn't bear contemplating. I flinched away from my own inner imaginings. It changed nothing about the danger she was in. Bile rose in my throat and seared only half as badly as the acidic guilt pouring into my veins. I looked at Naomi and Marcus to either side of me. They were just standing there, planning our next move. It was unbelievable. How could they be so calm about it?

"What is _wrong _with you two?" I stamped my hoof to get their attention, though it seemed my tone had already done that. They both looked at me, wide-eyed, as though my sudden sharpness had caught them off guard. "Somewhere at the end of this, some things are doing horrible… _things_ to my sister, and you two are just sitting here! She could be hurt, or worse!" My voice was raw, as much from the shouting as anything else, but I had to get these idiots moving before things could get any worse.

Naomi spoke slowly. "Daphne, we're worried, too, but we can't just—" She was trying to be reasonable, but reason just wasn't going to cut it.

"Amelia has been kidnapped by _monsters!_" I snapped, cutting her off. "Blue-eyed, rough-skinned, _magic-using monsters!_" Each description had me standing a little taller, glaring a little more sharply at Naomi.

She tried to placate me again, but this time I ignored her. With a snarl I lunged for her flashlight, snatching it from her belt with my teeth, and charged off into the night. Both Naomi and Marcus called after me in surprise and confusion as I left them in my dust, but I had the proverbial bit in my teeth now. I was going to take it and run. I was going to find Amelia and save her and be the best sister there ever was forever.

I would correct my mistakes or die trying.

With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I ran like I never had before. Each stride lifted all four of my hooves found the ground, one after another, before I tensed and almost leapt forward from the last, one bound leading to the other in a powerful expression of equine athleticism. An annoying, whining little voice was telling me that this wasn't smart, that I was running at a full gallop in the dark with only the moon and a wobbling light to see by. I batted it aside as easily as one might a fly, tucking my head into the cold wind. Every time a worry popped up, it was short-circuited with the memory of Amelia's face.

The shock of catching my hoof in an unseen hole—my ankle brushing the edge as I rushed past—turned that buzzing little fly into a screaming foghorn. I had nearly stumbled as it was; if that hole had been just another half inch further up the trail, the full weight of my body would have come crashing down on my ankle and likely snapped every bone there like a dry twig. It was a cold dose of reality straight in the face, like a bucket of icy water. I was being an idiot. Even if I did manage to make it through the woods without breaking my neck, charging directly into the unknown would work no better than it had the last time I attempted it.

I _tried _to stop, desperately fighting against the inertia of my own stupidity. This, too, went horribly awry. My skidding hoof caught on a root, which immediately pitched me forward into the air. There was a brief moment to reflect on how unfair life could be before the ground rose up to meet me, knocking me senseless.

Next thing I knew, I was staring up at the night sky as it spider-webbed through the dark forest canopy. The world was upside down, and I tasted metal on my lips. Immediately, I rolled to the ride, which I immediately regretted as pain lanced through my body. Naomi's flashlight glared harshly at me. Dazed and definitely bruised, I slumped there for a moment, my forceful charge converted into an equal but opposite defeatism.

Even if I could have, I didn't want to get up just then. I had very nearly gambled away my one chance to rescue Amelia. If I had broken my neck, I would never have seen her or anyone ever again. If I managed to break something else in the fall, there would be no way for me to continue. Guilt mixed with shame and settled over me, like a smothering blanket, as I struggled to breathe, biting back tears. It would have been so easy just to lay there in self-pity, but I fought myself back enough to try and look at the situation.

Gently, I lifted my head and glanced around. There was a swath of upturned grass, displaced leaves, and mangled bushes about twenty feet long, down the side of a hill behind me. It was all starkly illuminated by Naomi's flashlight, which was another ten feet down the hill. All but one of my legs were still functional, save the foreleg that had been caught on the root. Its ankle stung and was understandably sore, probably sprained, but I wagered it would still take my weight. I hadn't gotten off scott free, a fact that was punctuated by a bloodied snout as I rubbed at it with my good foreleg, but it could have been much worse. Escaping complete disaster was a small comfort, though, because I knew it had been dumb luck that had spared me, not any brilliance or quick thinking on my part.

I digested my actions in silence. No one had ever taught me how to deal with situations like this. I didn't know how to keep a cool head in a crisis. I wasn't a soldier, nor was I a policewoman, or a firewoman, or a storybook protagonist with a bag full of magical acorns and faerie wishes. All Amelia had to save her was a mixed-up, colorful horse for a sister and her two weird friends. A mixed-up horse who kept getting in over her head and making mistakes that could get herself killed.

If I had been worth a damn, I wouldn't have let my fears drive me like they had.

Pounding feet alerted me to the return of my friends, and I turned my head to watch them approach. "The hell, Daphne?" Marcus demanded. He was puffing a bit at the hard run to catch up. I couldn't even take pleasure in _that_ right now.

"Daphne! Are you crazy?" Naomi asked with more concern, keeping a steadier pace and guiding Hector by his lead. "You shouldn't run in the night like that; you could have been killed!" She embraced my head and then started checking my legs with a horse trainer's professional eye. It took her no more than a glance to notice that I was favoring one.

"I know." I let her examine me with little complaint, only wincing as she handled my ankle.

"You've sprained it, but it isn't so bad. There's no swelling that I can see, and you seem to still have full mobility. Just keep weight off it for a while—we don't know how well you bounce back from injury, and it could be a big problem if one of us is hurt out there." She exhaled as she set my leg down, then went about adjusting my scarf and hat with an almost motherly tenderness. For all that she was a year our junior and an aggressive moocher, Naomi could play the big sister pretty well.

I lowered my head again. There was a bitter taste in my mouth. "I know." I shut my eyes.

"Daphne."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I felt so weak. Part of me wanted to bury myself in the earth, and the other part of me wanted to set the forest on fire. Amelia needed me, and I was either charging like an idiot or weeping like a useless sod.

"You fall down, you get back up," Naomi told me, her tone steady, though her eyes were soft. Marcus held back among the trees, watching each way and not interfering. "You fall off the horse, and then you get back on."

Involuntarily, I barked a laugh. It was stupid, and it wasn't even a joke, but it hit me in just the right way. "Heh… horse. I fell off the horse."

"Yeah, you kinda did," she agreed, laying a hand on my neck. She felt very close right then, and a warm knot formed inside my gut.

With a weird mixture of chuckles and half-sobs, I pulled her closer with one leg and tucked my head over her shoulder. I must have gotten her clothes muddy and her hair messy with tears, but she didn't care. We just held each other for what seemed like an eternity, then pulled apart. I wiped my face with the back of a hoof, and she helped me to stand. I carefully put weight down on each leg in turn before getting back on all four.

"Promise you won't do that again?" She smoothed my mane back from my face.

"I won't do that again," I promised, glancing towards the ground. "I don't know if I can promise not to be stupid again, but I can avoid running through the woods for no good reason." I breathed a sigh. I was not a hero. None of us were. We were all Amelia had, and we weren't enough. I smiled at her wanly. "I can promise to try."

We weren't enough, but we had to try anyway.

"I'll take it for now." Naomi pulled away. "Are you ready to go?"

I flexed my sprained hoof to work out a crick before giving myself a little shake to free my coat of leaves. A flick of my tail rid it of a couple twigs. I looked up to the sky through the branches overhead, each of them almost entirely bare of foliage.

"Come on." Naomi stood herself up and dusted off her jeans. "We've still got a good moon, and we're all eager to get to Equestria."

"Speak for yourself," Marcus groused, but he obliged and started walking.

"Yeah." I glanced back at the path as I trotted gingerly toward my fallen flashlight, picking it up, before following after them.

With our flashlights out and searching, we were able to keep the path in view. The thugs had crashed through the brush with little care for concealment, and their shuffling feet disturbed the leaves on the ground with wild abandon. Even in the light breeze, it would have taken hours to disturb the trail enough for it not to be obvious, and that was assuming Naomi couldn't still track it with her impressive skill. I felt my heart flutter every time she pointed out the imprint of a small shoe.

"Eek!" Naomi shrieked, flinging herself back from a sapling she had been examining. Both Marcus and I reacted, he lifting his rifle and I bracing bravely—or quaking in my hooves, either way.

"What? Is it a monster? _Where?_" Marcus shouted, shining his flashlight around. I felt oddly pleased to see that he looked as freaked out as I was, though I probably would have been more comfortable if he had been responding calmly. _I_ was doing a fine job of fulfilling my promise to be steadier in a crisis.

"A sp-spider!" Naomi wibbled from behind Hector, shielding herself from the little tree with the stallion's bulk.

Marcus and I paused and exchanged glances, our tension dissipating.

"Seriously?" he asked me.

I sighed, nodding.

"What?" Naomi protested. "It was a big one!"

"Don't you go camping all the time, Nay?" Marcus said. I swept the sapling with my flashlight, held between my teeth, wondering if I could see the thing.

"Yes, and every time I find a stop for the night, I sweep the campsite meticulously for bugs, spiders, snakes, and whatever other creepy crawly wants to make a nest or snack on me!" she answered, shivering all over and hiding her face with her hat. "You ever read about what a tsetse fly can do to you? I don't want to be an incubator!"

"A what fly?" Marcus blinked. "Forget it. Haven't you at least camped out here?"

"What part of 'mysterious part of the forest no one can get to' confused you, Marcus? Besides, no one stays in these woods long. I told you; people just don't feel comfortable staying out here long." Naomi shuddered. "I always got the willies when I stayed longer than a few hours."

"You get the willies getting out of bed in the morning from the looks of it!"

I spied the spider with a little searching, and while it was somewhat large, it didn't seem all that terrifying. Turning the flashlight in my mouth over thoughtfully, I snorted. For a moment I had been worried she had seen some sort of actual monster spider.

Even as I thought that, Hector abruptly brought his hoof down with an angry snort of his own, striking the earth hard. Three flashlight beams focused there, and Naomi nearly passed out on the spot, her face turning alabaster. Eight hairy legs splayed out from a smear of arachnid goo. It was hard to tell in the present state it was in, but the spider that left that corpse had to have been as big as a grown man's spread hand. To think, a few minutes ago I had been contemplating how life didn't resemble a story, with irony built in.

"Right!" I said, with false brightness. "Monster spiders; check."

The rest of the way blessedly passed without incident, though we were all becoming intimately aware of how strange things could turn at a moment's notice. Paranoia had us sweeping the darkness with our lights more often than we strictly needed to, and the shapes made therein seemed alert with frightful possibility. Every time, though, within a few minutes, we were back to scanning the ground ahead and following the trail.

As the canopy grew thick with tall evergreen pines and trees that yet had many of their leaves, I realized I could no longer hear any footsteps beside my own. Chilled, I slowed and glanced around. My eyes widened. Towering trunks stood all about me, and the moon hung fat and bright overhead, but there wasn't a sign of any of my three companions. Worried I had been separated, even though we had been fairly close together, I shouted, "Marcus! Naomi!"

"Here!" Marcus called. I hurried my steps, racing back towards them. They were in a copse of short pines clustered around a little spring-fed pond. Hector was taking a drink with obvious relish, and they both frowned at me as I approached.

"Thank goodness. Where did you two go?" I asked.

"We were about to ask you the same thing," Naomi said to me in turn. "We lost the trail a little bit ago, and when we looked around you weren't there."

"I was definitely on the trail." I shook my head. "We probably got separated somewhere down there. Come on." Glancing past them, I frowned at Hector, whose eyes were rolling a bit back and forth. He pawed nervously at the ground. "What's got his goat?"

"I dunno, he's been spooked for a bit now," Naomi answered, peering down at me. "Do you sense anything wrong?"

I gave her a sullen look, my eyes narrow and my lips drawn into a thin line.

"It was worth asking!"

Turning, I flicked my tail at her and started back to the trail. "Let's keep together this time."

We did exactly that as we proceeded to follow the track. Our bodies were so close that I even brushed against them with my flanks from time to time. Dark clouds gathering on the horizon promised rain before morning. Hopefully we would be in shelter by then—or else on another world entirely. That is, of course, if we weren't already on some other world.

Up ahead, a stream stretched across the pathway, its waters rippling in the moonlight. Gathering, I charged to a gallop and leapt across it easily. Ten to twelve foot leaps should have been more concerning, but I had become a great deal more confident in my abilities. Turning, I looked to see how Marcus and Naomi were faring and—

"Oh, _damn it_," I swore and stamped a hoof in frustration. "You two would get lost in a McDonald's playpen!" I shouted, and then immediately thought better of it. The woods around me were taller and denser than they had been only a moment before, and there were night birds calling in the distance now. Some of them I could identify. Some.

I took a running leap again and cleared the river easily, tense as I trotted back. My legs were holding up fine so far, but each of those jumps had elicited a little twinge in my twisted ankle. I had no desire to test it more than I had to, and that little pins-and-needles sensation was making me nervous. The sound of approaching hoof steps gave me pause, and Naomi ducked a branch to pull Hector up next to me. The big horse tried to nose at me, and I shoved him away with a hoof.

"What's the deal?" I demanded. "Where's Marcus?"

"I don't know, but you just disappeared!" she answered at once. "I swear, we were right next to you, and then it got all windy and you were gone and the trail was like twenty feet away! Then Hector started tugging at me, so I got on him and he led me right here."

Chewing on my lower lip, I considered that. "Lead me back to Marcus," I suggested, a notion niggling at my brain.

When we found him, he was leaning with his back against a maple trunk, pistol in hand. He nodded at us. "You notice something odd, too?"

"Definitely," I answered. "We were right next to each other. There's no way you should have gotten lost. You can't lose someone that badly in two seconds if they're just walking like that."

"Maybe… I have an idea." He pulled a rolled up paper from his jacket pocket, one of those the thugs had been carrying. "Look at the illustration up top."

Naomi pointed the flashlight at it and we both crowded in for a look. In the light we could see that there was a hand-drawn image of men in funny helmets and crests riding horses. No, on second thought, those weren't normal horses—the artist wasn't exactly a life-drawing expert, but the big eyes and short snouts were rather distinctive. Each was saddled and bridled for riding, and the front few men were charging through the water with them.

"It's thin, but…" I frowned. "Well, it can't hurt to try. Naomi didn't see the river until she had come riding, and we were all so close we should have stayed together if this were natural. Okay, so, Naomi, we'll go across with you on Hector and I'll take him back and come for Marcus."

Naomi frowned. "I don't like the thought of being out here all alone, but okay." She turned and started to mount, but hesitated. "Wait, you'll have trouble getting him to cross a river without a rider. He's not going to do that sort of thing on his own, not if it makes him nervous."

"I'll manage." I waved a hoof dismissively. "Besides, we don't have much of a choice here. There's no way that Hector can hold two people."

"What, really?" Marcus asked. "He's a big guy, and Naomi is like eighty pounds soaking wet, most of which is hair."

"Hector is a racing horse," Naomi told him primly, "and while he may be able to carry two riders in a pinch, I'm not going to risk him hurting himself. Especially if he has to jump; the landing could go bad, and too much weight can hurt him."

"Fine, fine!" Marcus lifted his hands placatingly. "Here, let's just try this. You ride Hector and I'll tie his reins about my wrist."

Naomi considered that for a moment, and nodded, tossing the reins down to him. When I started ahead again, I was pressed up against Hector's side, and Marcus was tied securely about his reins on the other side of the horse.

As a unit we traversed the leaf-strewn earth and beheld the sparkling river stretching across our path. It seemed so peaceful here, now that I stopped to think about it. I put a hoof into the water. It felt pleasant, just cool enough to be soothing to my aching legs. "Leit must have loved splashing through this every day," I mused aloud.

"It does look nice." Naomi took her reins back from Marcus and let Hector step delicately across the shallow water. With a deep breath, she inhaled. "So, this is another world?"

"Beats me," I answer, preparing to join Marcus as he confidently put a foot into the water.

I wasn't certain what it was at first that warned me. My ears were more sensitive than theirs were, so maybe I was just the first to hear the rumbling. Leaping forward, I bit into Marcus' jacket collar and hauled backwards. With all four hooves digging into the earth, I managed to unbalance him and drag him onto the Earth side of the shore with me just as the gentle river erupted in violence. Frothing white water rushed down the path with the force of a train, and its passage nearly soaked us with churning foam. As Marcus and I tumbled back in relative safety, I couldn't help but marvel as the raging waters seethed, then calmed as if nothing had happened. The force of that water could have knocked a tank over, let alone a single squishy human.

"Are you two okay?" Naomi's voice was frantic. Hector danced nervously, giving her some trouble in controlling him, with his hooves churning up the wet earth.

"We're fine!" Marcus called back, checking his bags.

Rising to meet Naomi when she dashed across the quiescent river with Hector, we settled back from the bank. Looking over the papers, I planted a hoof on an illustration of waves, rushing up to swallow men. "Ah hah!"

"Congratulations, you discovered that we're all idiots," Marcus griped. He paused in wiping down his outfit at the sound of a distant howl.

Naomi shook water from her long hair. "Well, there's no way we're getting all three of us across like that. I wouldn't want to risk Hector on the off-chance it decides that two riders aren't good enough. I don't know that we have enough time to figure something out, either."

"Do you have a better idea?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, actually, yes," she said, and reached into one of Hector's bags, pulling a set of leather straps out.

Immediately, I backpedaled, crawling my back up a tree with my forehooves out to either side. "Why did you bring that? _When_ did you bring that? Keep that thing away from me!" I stared at the object in her hands with revulsion—the bridle seemed to me to gleam dangerously in the moonlight.

"I just brought it for Hector, in case his broke!" Her tone was too innocent to be anything but false. She held out the bridle towards me. It might as well have been a live snake for all I cared.

"No way! No how!" I shouted. "We'll figure out how to get across without it!"

"We don't really have time to think about it." Naomi shook her head. "Now get over here and put on the bridle. We'll make a saddle for you out of blankets, and I'll ride you. It's just until we get across!"

"Like you haven't been preparing for this the whole time!" I pointed a hoof at her. "Not gonna happen. Look, I'll carry you without one if I have to!"

"Naomi's right." Marcus came up on my other side. "Besides, the men in the picture had bridled those ponies, too."

Suspecting his motives were no more wholesome than Naomi's, I glared at him.

Naomi pulled back as I flailed my hooves defensively, warning her off. Then she and Marcus exchanged a conspiratorial glance while she reached for her rope.

Half a second later, I was ten feet up the tree. I scrambled with my hooves and scaled it faster than I could have imagined, then wrapped all four legs about the trunk.

"How the hell did you climb that with _hooves?_" Marcus demanded, shining his flashlight up. The light made me squint.

"I don't know, and I don't care. Stay away, you freaks!" I shouted. The tree was wobbling as I shifted here and there. It bowed somewhat under my weight, but held. Then I risked a peek down below and saw Naomi twirling a lasso and groaned. "No way, you can't be serious. I'll break my neck if you try to drag me down!"

I, however, was not the target. She swung the line and cinched it hard when it fell _above_ my head—to encircle the upper part of the trunk.

Attaching the other end to Hector, she led him away, and the tree bent inexorably. I saw Marcus laying down his hard case. When he balanced on top of it, he was easily able to get a hold around my middle. I initially refused to let go, but I discovered to my astonishment that ponies were ferociously ticklish—or I still was, at any rate.

"Stop!" I laughed against my will. "You monster, sto-o-op!" There was no help for it. My grip slipped and I tumbled into his arms. Though too heavy to catch, he broke my fall as we toppled and fell to the earth.

"Ow," Marcus groaned, and struggled under me. Three hundred pounds of alien horse were difficult to dislodge.

"Serves you right," I muttered, and looked up to find Naomi staring down at me with an unwholesome gleam in her eyes as she held the bridle. "I swear, I will murder both of you in your beds!"

"I know it's upsetting, Daphne, but we really _do_ need to do this," she said. "You're strong enough to carry me, easy, while Hector would get hurt carrying both of us."

"You should have taken a stronger riding horse, then!"

"If wishes were horses, we'd..." Naomi pursed her lips. "Well, we'd not be in this mess, actually. I took Hector because he's the fastest we've got, _and_ one of the only horses on the ranch who's been trained around firearms. Any of the others would spook. We really are almost out of moonlight, too, and once it drops below the trees we aren't going to be able to do _any_ riding, no matter what we want."

My protests might have continued, but Hector stamped a hoof nervously—one could almost imagine that he was begging us to hurry. Something was spooking the big Arabian, and whether it was being so close to magic, or something _else_, none of us were in a great hurry to find out. "Fine," I muttered. "Just... make it quick."

"Get off." Marcus groaned. "Your fat rear is crushing my rib cage."

Glaring at him, I rose and flicked my tail at his face disdainfully. With efficient movements, Naomi fit the bridle around my face, having to cinch it pretty far to get around my nose. A death glare did little to ruffle her.

Naomi was almost beside herself with joy, taking heavy blankets from Hector's bags and packing them onto my back. I probably could have objected more strongly, but we had to hurry while we still had moonlight. Besides, Hector was still nervous, and something did seem rather threatening about where we were. I didn't like it, so I could put up with being bridled for a few minutes if it got us all out of here.

I also had no idea how to get the damned thing off on my own. Stupid hooves.

"This is _so_ undignified," I muttered. I would just have to pay them back later, in spades.

Bracing my hooves, I waited, and my friend settled onto my back as I tensed gingerly. Though I imagined I would have considerable difficulty throwing a skilled rider like Naomi, I knew she wouldn't stay if I couldn't bear her weight. Normally, a horse could carry a rider between a fifth and a third of its mass, more if it was particularly stocky or strong, or if the rider was good, but I marveled to see that she might as well have been a child. Evidently, Equestrians had an edge up in raw strength, even if other physical traits were lacking.

"Comfortable?" Naomi pat my neck. She was balanced adroitly, and was careful not to interfere with my poncho.

"_No_," I snapped.

She giggled, and detached the reins. As I turned my head questioningly, she gave me a raised eyebrow, answering my unspoken question. "You didn't _seriously_ think I was going to try and control you, did you? Even if I tried, you could just roll on top of me or smash me into a tree."

Blushing, I stammered but had no answer. I worried at the ground with a hoof.

"Just do this for me." She lay across me and tucked her head against my mane, her own hair blowing in the gentle wind.

"Fine," I whined, "but I still am pissed off."

"Are you two girls done braiding each other's hair?" Marcus turned in a circle with Hector. He wasn't a terribly strong rider, and Hector was rolling his eyes back at him in a manner that suggested the horse was seriously considering ignoring him and racing off. Bucking _him_ off might have been entertaining, but there was no way I was letting Marcus put his legs around me in _any_ sense.

There was a sarcastic remark in there somewhere, but I paused, my ear twitching as I detected a noise. It sounded like a dog. Turning my head, my eyes scanned the trees. Hector, too, looked nervous.

"Did you hear that?" Naomi asked, and I nodded. Marcus was about to ask as well, but the odd barking, baying noise was becoming clearly audible to everyone.

"What is that?" He frowned, listening. "A pack of hyenas?" He reached for his gun, but had to grab the reins with both hands to control Hector, sawing at the horse to turn him.

"Not going to find out. Hold on, Naomi." I lowered my head and started to canter, leading Hector and Marcus. As the baying grew louder behind us, I followed the trail to the river and picked up speed. With a leap, I soared over the barrier, and Naomi, for all that the night was frightful and the darkness deep, threw back her head and squealed in sheer excitement.

With two bridled mounts and two mounted children of men, we charged over the hill, into a new land, into destiny.

Into Equestria.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

Thrill as Daphne gets herself into more trouble! Gape as Amelia joins the pony race!

Also introducing Marcus, the (probably) final human character. He brings the power of taunting and firearms.  
It was important to me to introduce foils for each of the characters, in both benign and malignant forms. Readers—and sometimes the characters themselves—can really examine themselves by reflecting off others. Or, you know, they could snipe at each other through the duration of the journey... I'm sure they'll learn a lesson eventually!

Stay tuned next episode, where we find out what the goblins have in store for Amelia.

Anyone wondering what ponies Marcus and Naomi would be: pegasus and earth pony respectively. Totally.

Be sure to check out the original on Fimfiction here: story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


	4. Chapter 4 - The Players

Chapter 4: The Players

أَلا إِنَّهُمْ هُمُ الْمُفْسِدُونَ وَلَـكِن لاَّ يَشْعُرُونَ

"**Are they not indeed the mischief-makers? But they perceive not." Baqarah 12**

**Amelia**

Soft light and a soft bed greeted me when I came to. Sighing, I smashed my face into the pillow, wishing the dream could have lasted a little longer. My fight with Daphne, the meeting with the Morgwyn, the trip with the goblins, and the feeling of my hooves all threatened to fade away. Disappointment gnawed at me. It was so unfair, having to wake up.

A whiff of cinnamon and applies nearly made my toes curl as I lifted my head. It was so tantalizing I could have floated off the bed and followed the scent all the way downstairs. Eager, I swung my lower body off the bed. The rest of me tumbled to the floor when it turned out I had grossly overestimated how much force I would need to do that, almost as if I were a lot smaller than I should have been.

I thought back to when I had first woken up. _Hooves?_

Four legs—and four hooves—stretched out above me as I looked up to verify.

"It was real! It was all real!" I twisted and sprang back to my legs. A quick look around told me that I hadn't woken in my own bed at home, either. Clambering back onto the star-patterned sheets, I stared around, drinking in the details. A round room with hardwood flooring and a pair of open, circular windows, sunlight flooding through, greeted me. The air that streamed in was crisp as a fresh spring morning. Plush ponies peeked out of a chest, and a dresser stood up between the windows.

Through the open door, that cinnamon scent was growing stronger, and I sprang off the bed. In my haste, I tumbled out into the hall and haphazardly navigated a flight of stairs, before spilling out onto a knit rug. It slid freely beneath me across the smooth floor, until I met a pair of pink legs with an audible thump.

"Hi!" The pony attached to them tilted her head down, a grin splitting her muzzle and a warm gleam in her blue eyes. Unlike me, her forehead was bare of a horn, and her hair was an explosive puff of darker pink still. More importantly, she effortlessly balanced a pie on her back, one that was giving off the most mouth-watering aroma of apple and cinnamon I could have imagined.

"You must be Amelia! I'm Pinkie Pie!" She helped me up with a hoof. "That looked fun! Can I take a turn on the rug, next?"

"Uh." All I could do was stare, but Pinkie didn't seem to mind.

"Oh, oh! I bet you haven't tried out the swings yet!" She bounced up and down, grinning like a loon. "Of course you haven't. You were asleep the whole time! You'll have to try them out later. We're going to have so much fun together! I'll show you all the best places to go swimming and base jumping and where to get the yummiest snacks."

It was difficult to follow along with the stream of rapid fire words, but I latched on to the one that was most important to me right then. "Did you say snacks?" At the mention of food, I was reminded that I hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.

"I sure did!" Pinkie Pie positively beamed—and here I thought her grin couldn't get any bigger—as she backed into a table, letting the pie slide down. "I baked this special welcome pie just for you! Gosh, I figure you must be just _so_ hungry." She put a thoughtful hoof to her cheek and knit her brow a bit, losing a bit of her excitement but seeming no less friendly. "I know I was always hungry as a li'l filly."

I let her gab on while I clambered up a stool. Briefly, I considered how to safely cut into the pie with my hooves, but the lack of any visible utensils on the table and the growing rebellion in my stomach drove me to the only logical solution.

"My grandmother said I'd eat her out of house and home, so I did! It wasn't my fault that her house was made of gingerbread, was it? I mean, you're kinda asking for it at that point. Don't you think it would have been impolite _not_ to at least try it?" Pinkie turned from her tangent to find me with my face shoved directly into the center of the pie. It was as delicious as my nose had promised me, and the bits of apple tartness warred with sugary sweetness to conquer my taste buds.

"Oh!" Pinkie giggled. "Good answer."

When I had polished off the crust, she handed me a cloth, and I wiped my face on it, grinning at her. "So is this part of the castle?" I sat back down. Figuring out how to sit on a stool properly as a pony was a bit of a challenge, considering the way my butt was built. Leaning one foreleg on the table seemed to do the trick, so I continued to pepper the older pony with questions. "Are we eating pie for breakfast every day? Because that would be _sweet_. Can I ride you? Are there more ponies like us? What's it like being so pink?"

"It's not part of the castle," Pinkie answered my first question, then charged through my others with abandon, adding, "sure you can—it _would_ be sweet—yes, yes, and _awesome!_ Hop on. I'll show you!"

Pinkie Pie turned, and I hopped onto her back, grabbing her about the middle with all four legs. It was a good thing I did, too, because when she started bouncing out the door I nearly bounced right off her, lulling dangerously in the air for a moment before I tightened my grip. Dazzling sunlight met me as we left the house, the air warm and fresh, and I stared around like a tourist. Rolling, purple hills framed a valley of shocking green you would never see in New England and nestled a small town in their embrace. Brightly colored ponies of every description sauntered and trotted to and fro as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"See? There's the castle!" Pinkie ceased her bouncing to raise a hoof, and I sighted down it. At the tip of her hoof lay a jewel-like castle, clinging against the side of a great, far-off mountain.

It was so far off I had to squint to get a good look. "Wow, it looks a lot less dirty in this light."

"Princess Celestia is really excited to meet you, but she's always super, super busy, so she asked us to look after you for a little bit." Pinkie waved her hoof around at the town. "She wanted us to show you everything there was to know about Equestria!"

"Us?" Blinking, I arched a brow. "Who is 'us?'"

"Me and my friends, of course!" Pinkie replied blithely.

"My friends and I," I corrected.

"Your friends? Oh, are _your_ friends are here, too? That's so cool!" Pinkie hopped about in one place, bouncing off her hooves—and bouncing me along with her—like they were made of rubber. They might as well have been, given the way she moved around. "We'll have to meet them later," she decided once she came to a stop again. "_My_ friends are over at Sugar Cube Corner. Hang on!"

There was hardly any chance to look around. It felt like we bounced halfway across town in just a half dozen jumps. Each "step" of her bounding gait ate up a ton of ground and made the town rock and heave at odd angles. It was all I could do just to hang on tight. Off in the distance, I dimly perceived a building that looked as though someone had dropped a cupcake off of a giant's table. Then I was flying through the air, this time free of Pinkie's back. Bracing for a hard landing, I pulled in my limbs and squeezed my eyes shut, only to find the ground late in coming.

When I opened them again, there was a haze of red light all around me that made it hard to see. Its touch was like silk, and it gently deposited me back on the ground. An immaculate white hoof offered itself to me. I took it and rose to find an elegant unicorn dusting off my mane.

"Oh, you poor dear," she doted on me, while chastising my guide. "Pinkie Pie, is this any way to treat a guest?"

For a moment, the sight of her was almost too much to take in. Never had I imagined a creature that looked so flawless, with not a single speck blemishing her alabaster coat, nor was there a single strand of her violet mane out of place, curled elegantly down one side of her face. A delicately whorled horn adorned her and marked her as a unicorn like me. That I was beginning to think of other ponies as "like me" was a topic I could examine another time.

"It sure is _a_ way, Rarity! This is Rarity." Pinkie gestured to the white unicorn, grinning down at me. "She's the best dressmaker in Equestria!"

"I hope you didn't scramble her brains with that wild gallivanting about," Rarity complained. "The poor dear looks simply flummoxed." Her horn wrapped itself in ruby-red light, and the stray hairs about my face abruptly pulled themselves back. That light combed my mane into a semblance of order, letting it hang down past one shoulder. "There! Isn't that better, dear?"

"Ooo, I could go for some scrambled brains right about now!" Pinkie gazed thoughtfully into the distance. At a look from the white mare, she amended, "Or scrambled eggs! Those would be good."

"How are scrambled brains?" I asked at once, not about to let juicy information like that slide.

"Scrumptious!"

"Pinkie, please," another feminine voice interrupted from inside the confectionery, "don't fill her head with rubbish." This one sounded aristocratic—almost _too_ posh. It was the kind of voice that belonged to snooty librarians. "Why don't you all come inside so she can meet the rest of us?"

"Sure thing, Princess! Come on inside. We've got breakfast and lots more goodies for you!" Pinkie Pie nudged my backside, and I darted in, only to collide with a rock-hard orange chest. A pair of hooves caught me as I rebounded, and a big grin under a cowboy hat greeted me.

"Shucks, she's a rambunctious one! Just like we were told," the new mare said as she prodded at me consideringly. She was heavily muscled, with corded limbs taut under her skin. "Of course, that ain' nothin' a few days good, honest labor won't settle."

"Applejack!" Rarity protested. "Honestly, the poor dear's eyes are as wide as saucers already. She can't take many more shocks."

"Indeed. Clear aside, Applejack," the aristocratic voice directed.

"Sure thing, Princess." Applejack turned, but not entirely moving out of my way.

Seated at a table in the middle of the shop was a lavender pegasus with a series of stars on her flank, her wings held lightly to either side. A crown was seated on her head, nestled in her dark blue hair, and the horn rising over it left me a little confused as to what to call her. A unicorn? A pegasus? Both? Unlike the others, she was wearing a fine dress and gold shoes that protected her hooves. Her horn glowed dark red, like wine, and a teacup hovered to let her sip at it delicately.

"Oh hey, you must be the magical princess I was promised!" I bounded up to the table and planted my hooves on it to look up at her. Beside the princess sat another pegasus, her yellow wings tucked up at her sides and her pink hair half-hiding her face, but I ignored her in favor of the princess, my eyes intent.

"I cannot say what you were promised, young Amelia." The pegasus-unicorn lowered her tea cup. "I am, however, a Princess of this realm, the newly coronated Princess Twilight Sparkle, bearer of the Element of Magic. I—"

"Oh, oh, can you teach me to do magic, then?" I interrupted at once, pushing myself a little further up the table. "I mean, seeing as how you're the Element of Magic. Is that like being the element of boron, or maybe molybdenum?" My head twisted quizzically. "I kinda figured you'd have to be the element of _carbon_, but I think on _Star Trek_ there was this monster that was made out of silicon. Is that why ponies seem so strong; are you silicon-based life forms?"

"I prefer to think of us as candy-based," Pinkie interjected, confidently.

"So how do you do that with the thing with your tea cup, Ms. Twilight?" I demanded. Visions of floating Daphne through town, dangling upside down in her skivvies, floated through my head. "Is it sort of a _hrng_, pushing out with your brain like a TV psychic, or is it more of an _om_ like a meditating monk?"

"All in good time, young Amelia," Twlight assured me. "In addition, you must refer to me as Princess Twilight."

"You may also refer to her as Princess, or Her Highness," Rarity informed me with a little sweep of her hoof. "Now, where _is _the final member of our party."

"Now, I thought we couldn't find Rainbow Dash?" Applejack asked. The yellow pegasus hadn't yet introduced herself, but the sweets were far too alluring to ignore any further. "I swear, if I could lay my hooves on that lazy good-for-nothin'…" she muttered, trailing off on a dire note.

"Well, _duh_." Pinkie rolled her eyes. "It's been a long time. I mean, I almost didn't make it."

With my face smooshed up against the glass of the display cases, I could almost taste the candy underneath. In the search for the latch, however, a newspaper left on the counter caught my attention—it seemed a little strange for there to be newspapers, but if they could have pies and stairs, why not newspapers, too? Half of it hung off the side, and the print wasn't in any language I knew.

"No, no, it's been taken care of," Princess Twilight reassured the others. "She's just getting ready now, I'm sure. I saw her on my way in. She looked fantastic."

It was easier to page through once I'd dropped it on the floor. Most of the pictures were of the ponies in the room with me. There was one of Applejack sleeping on one page, and a picture of Pinkie Pie wearing a lampshade while dancing in a bowl of punch on another. Each page had detailed notes in a scrawling hand, written between the lines or around the photos in red ink. I started to turn another page when a yellow hoof slammed down on the newspaper and yanked it away.

The fifth, as-yet-unnamed mare quickly crumpled the newspaper into a tight ball with her forehooves and tossed it behind the counter. "Don't take things that don't belong to you!" It was odd to hear such a sweet tone sound so harsh, but she seemed to undergo a rapid and sudden personality shift right after that, as if her outburst had surprised her, as well. This sudden instability concerned me almost as much as the violent way she had taken away the papers. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry." She backed away, tucking her wings in tight. "It was my fault, really. I-I was reading it earlier, and I—"

The mare ducked her head into her voluminous pink hair and seemed to shrink, as if she intended on sinking right into the floor. "Oh, Fluttershy, you have such a temper," she murmured to herself. There was just no helping it at that point. She just looked and sounded so hurt that it was impossible not to feel immediate pity.

Awkwardly, I patted her on the shoulder. It seemed like the best thing I could do. "There, there," I said, though I couldn't bring myself to look at her after that display. "It's okay."

Her spirits perked a tiny bit, and a meek little smile beamed up at me from behind her mane—that seemed to have done the trick. "I really should make it up to you. Maybe… maybe I could show you to my animals later!" She stood herself a little taller, her mane falling away a bit to reveal her face again. "I bet you would like a griffon ride. They used to scare me, but that was before Pinkie Pie showed me how to tame them."

"How _do_ you tame griffons?" Her outburst was quickly forgotten. I was entirely diverted now.

"Well, first you have to show them who's boss by humiliating them, then you have to—"

"_Hey!_" a female voice protested from outside, sharp and annoyed. "Watch where you're pushing. I know where I'm going!"

"Just get in there," another, more muffled voice grunted. The front door opened, and a sixth and final mare was roughly pushed in, her blue wings flared aggressively.

Grumbling, the new pegasus dusted herself off, straightening her ragged, shoulder-length mane and her straight tail with a negligent sort of ease. For a moment, it was as though nothing else in the room existed. The pony was all sleek blue lines and feathers, covering tight, powerful muscles over a slender frame. None of the other mares had hair even remotely like hers, either, the colors of the rainbow arrayed in a spectral fan. Intense jealousy warred with sudden admiration within me, for she was the most sublime little horse I had ever seen.

"Sheesh, can't a pony get a little respect around here?" she complained, looking around briefly. Rose eyes flickered through quick states of shock and amused surprise, taking in the scene. It seemed as though she was stunned by the others, her wings fluttering slightly at her sides before she closed them up.

"Consarnit, Rainbow Dash, took ya long enough to get here." Applejack was the first to voice her complaints. "Where ya been all this time?"

There was an awkward beat. "Oh. I was just on my way back from Cloudsdale," she answered at last, her tone somewhat stilted. "You know. Important weatherpony business. We can't—" she paused again, as if having to process something unfamiliar, "—monopolize the world's weather without good coordination." Her eyes flickered towards a window. I glanced that way as well, and something quickly darted out of sight, like it knew we'd just caught sight of it.

"Oh! And who is this?" She pointed in my direction. "Is this our special guest? The one we've been waiting for?"

Now, I wasn't stupid. There was a point somewhere along the line in this whole affair where I realized I was being put on in one way or another, even if I couldn't quite put a hoof on it. Sure, she was the most incredible creature that had ever lived in appearance, but it sounded a whole lot like she was reading lines. Pinkie Pie was wincing noticeably, too, and Applejack looked about ready to strangle her.

Rainbow's eyes flickered to the window again, my eyes following hers, but there was nothing outside but a tree, waving in the breeze.

"Oh, really?" I drew the word out skeptically. "I'm sure you can just tell me what it is you've all been waiting for, then."

It looked as though the room might explode from tension. Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy exchanged panicked looks. Princess Twilight's teacup rattled violently on its saucer. Rarity and Applejack looked towards the doors.

Rainbow Dash, for her part, froze completely. I snapped my gaze to the window, but she didn't even look. Instead, she scuffed a hoof on the floor and laughed. "Aw, ponyfeathers. Alright, kid, you caught me," she admitted, and trotted over. "I give up. I've got no idea what you're here for, to give it to you straight, but I figure it's some sort of surprise party."

While the others gaped, she grinned, and extended a hoof. "Tell you what. Since you figured me out, how about I give you a ride, on the house?"

"Ride?" I inquired, arching a brow, while the tension blew out of the room. "I don't know, Pinkie Pie gave me a ride here, and I think I lost a tooth."

"Oh yeah? Guess it's for the best, then," she dismissed, flexing her wings. "You probably couldn't handle it."

"Nuh uh. I can handle anything you've got! You don't look all that fast."

Rainbow craned her neck back, narrowing one eye, a playful smirk on her face, as she poked me in the chest. "Fastest pony in Equestria, right here. You think you got what it takes? I'll wring you like a towel."

I got up in her face—as much as I could, anyway. "Bring it on!"

At her challenge, she ducked, and I clambered atop her much as I had with Pinkie Pie. Once all four of my feet had clamped down on her flanks, she flexed her wings out to their full extension, making a show of stretching.

There was no way she could fly very fast with wings that size, I thought. They were just too small in proportion to her body. Once we got outside she'd probably need to run halfway down the street to build up enough momentum—

My scream never caught up to us. It was probably still rattling the windows of the bakery by the time I was dangling three hundred feet off the ground, clinging to the pegasus above me for dear life. Rainbow Dash's powerful body surged as she took me in a widening circle about the town, its roads and buildings stretching out above my head.

Her tail faded into a haze of rainbow light, marking our trail, and her forehooves were thrust forward boldly. The slightest twitch sent her soaring in an entirely different direction, with turns so sharp they left spots in my vision. By now, excitement had replaced shock and fright. Instead of fearful screaming, whoops of joy echoed off the rooftops.

At the peak of her ascent, Rainbow Dash flared her wings and hung suspended in the sky for three long breaths. Then she tilted, and fell, diving through clouds that puffed and exploded in her passage, sending gouts of rain tumbling after her. Flaring her wings one last time, she buffeted them into a fine mist that wrapped us in scintillating rainbow light as her hooves touched the earth.

"Oh my gosh you are the best pony _ever!_"

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed, buffing a hoof on her coat. "I kinda am."

It wasn't until lunch before we were all together again. Most of the morning was spent exploring the town with Pinkie Pie, who was only too happy to give me the grand tour. The town was surprisingly tiny for a place run by horses; I would have thought that creatures that ran around on all fours would have preferred something a little more wide open and with fewer floors, but stairs weren't an obstacle at all. Pinkie Pie instinctively seemed to know when I was losing interest, too, because she'd bring out a new pony to talk to or show me some new vista every time my attention drifted.

On the whole, though, I was starting to get the idea that something was a little strange. It occurred to me as we were all sitting down to eat at an open-air café that there hadn't been a single foal anywhere in Ponyville, aside from me. There had been a few older ponies, and some ponies who seemed to be middle-aged, but not a single one who was anywhere near my size or age.

"Twilight—" I started to ask.

"_Princess_ Twilight, dear," she corrected, cutting me off.

Rainbow Dash arched a brow and gave her a vacant glance. "What's that about? Lay off her, _Twi_. She's just a kid."

Twilight glanced back at her. It wasn't that she looked sour, but she did look a little annoyed, her regal smile narrowing. "Rainbow, I think I really ought to instill proper etiquette. She's at a very impressionable age, and she shouldn't be excused from learning her manners."

A waiter was trying to get Rainbow Dash's attention, rather forcefully attempting to shove an open menu into her hooves, but she swatted him away with a hoof and went on. "Not every pony grew up in the palace, Twilight, and, if she's anything like _me _at that age, you're just gonna bug her. Give it a rest."

Twilight glanced around, first at me and then back to Rainbow Dash, then rubbed a hoof along her own foreleg. She sighed, but then smiled gently. "Rainbow…" she began, but her objection died in her throat as she caught Rainbow's eyes. Twilight furrowed her brow, but her smile only widened as she gradually slumped forward, the tips of her wing reaching around to brush Rainbow's back. Rainbow cast her gaze between the outstretched wing and Twilight herself, confused, but the other mare was already turning back to me. "I'm very sorry, Amelia. I shall not insist on the title if you do not wish to address me with it."

"Sure thing, Twi," I agreed at once, waving it off with a hoof.

Twilight winced but gave Rainbow Dash a tolerant smirk.

"Eh, it's a lame title, anyway." Rainbow shrugged, and brushed Twilight's wing away with her own. "You're not even the Princess _of_ anything. Why make such a big deal out of it?"

Distracted, I contemplated telling the waiter I wasn't hungry, but a rebellious rumble from my stomach informed me otherwise. Pinkie Pie giggled, whispering, "It's the transformation. Eats your energy right up!"

"Short stack of waffles," I informed the waiter. Promptly, I revised that, grabbing his sleeve. "On second thought, better make it a _tall_ stack; with extra syrup and butter."

"Don't be so sour, Dashie," Twilight chirped. It seemed as if her manner had changed completely, losing much of that uptight facade. She slid her chair over so she could be closer to the other girl, sliding her wing around her and pulling the both of them together. "I'm sorry I was so stuffy. Let's just move on and have a nice lunch, all right?"

"Uh," Rainbow Dash answered, tense. She pulled away from Twilight as much as she could on her chair. "Sure. Yeah."

"Are you two always like this?" I asked, giving them an odd look.

"Oh yes," Twilight lilted with a polite giggle, folding her wing back against her side. "Rainbow Dash and I are very close friends."

It wasn't long before I lost interest and decided to watch Fluttershy carefully rearrange the silverware. They stuck to her hooves as if she had suddenly become magnetic. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Fluttershy asked, in her quiet voice, looking to me attentively.

"Pick things up like that," I clarified, pressing a hoof against a fork and failing to bring it up.

"Like this," she told me, touching her hoof to her silverware again and carefully picking it up. "You just sort of have to press your hoof and squeeze sort of… it's hard to explain, but you give it a little pressure."

"Like suction?"

"A little." Fluttershy nodded absently. "Give it a try."

Pressing a hoof against the table, there was a gentle pull, and my hoof came up with the knife. The sensation at the end of my hooves was a little dull, but I could definitely feel it pressed there.

Fluttershy clapped her hooves together approvingly, sharing in my little triumph. "Good job! You picked that right up. Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I almost forgot. If it's not too much trouble, I wanted to introduce you to my animals later today."

"Animals?" I asked, curiously, and a niggling thought pricked my brain, making me realize I had half-forgotten something. It was on the tip of my tongue. "What kind of animals?"

"Lots of kinds," she said, her quiet voice stuck between anxiety and excitement. "I take care of them, you know. The poor dears just wouldn't know what to do without me. I've got cute little bunnies and sweet little birdies and kitties. You know, all sorts of precious little—

I cut her off. "Boring. Do you have any snakes or insects?"

"I—snakes or insects?" Fluttershy asked, looking at me in wide-eyed bewilderment. "Wouldn't you rather see a nice, cuddly otter?"

This pegasus seemed to have entirely the wrong idea. There was a whole world of awesome creatures out there, and yet it seemed everyone thought little girls should only be interested in the cuddly, cute ones. Just to be polite, I chewed it over with my waffles, which were about as fluffy as the bunnies promised to be.

"Nah. While I would like to see an otter crack open an abalone on its tummy, I was wondering if you had something, well, _cooler_. Don't you have any neat reptiles or insects?"

"I—reptiles, insects?" she asked me, then looked over to the others. "I, well…"

Bemused, Rainbow Dash supplied, "Didn't you have a wasp a while ago, and did you ever find a yellow-striped bat?"

"Yellow-striped bat?" I parroted at Fluttershy, wide-eyed. Maybe this pony wasn't so hopeless after all.

"No! I mean—m-maybe!" She giggled nervously. "Why don't you come on by my cottage a bit later while I, uhm, rustle up some critters?"

"Sure, I guess," I agreed. While the others wrapped up their meals, the niggling thought that had eluded me earlier fell into place. "Oh! Do you know where the Morgwyn went?"

Fluttershy squeaked and dove under the table. "The Morgwyn? Wh-where?" she stammered, tucking her long tail around herself.

"Taking that as a no. Pinkie?"

"Big scary blue cat thing?"

I nodded. "Yeah." Fluttershy squeaked in agreement.

"Nope! Not a clue."

"The Morgwyn had a very important task to perform in bringing you here," Twilight reassured me. "I'm sure it's moved on already, after receiving a suitable reward from Princess Celestia."

"Pinkie Pie mentioned her before." I tapped a hoof to my chin for a moment before turning to Twilight. "Who is she? Wouldn't she be the same rank as you, being a princess and all?"

"You're very clever," she complimented me, in a way that somehow made me feel more patronized than pleased. "Princess Celestia is more than just a Princess. She's been the just and wise ruler of our world for well over a thousand years. She is gracious enough to present me as having equal rank, but who can truly measure up to her?"

"Literally." Pinkie waved a hoof over her head. "She's, like, six, seven, eight feet tall."

"Breathes fire," Fluttershy added.

"And shoots lightning from her eyes!" Pinkie declared. "Zap!"

"_I_ like her," Applejack announced, finally joining in on the conversation. "Her will has the force of law, and there ain' no pony who can argue with her. T'ain't often you see a pony with that level of gumption."

Rainbow seemed bothered by this talk, with the way her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed. She leaned forward, protesting, "Wait just a minute, Princess Celestia isn't—"

"A complete tyrant, I know," Rarity interjected. "She's widely recognized for her generous health care and efficiently run trains."

"I'm still on probation after killing her pet bird." Fluttershy shivered, still under the table. She crept out carefully, as if uncertain whether or not Princess Celestia—or the Morgwyn—might be watching. "I should go get those critters," she announced, darting off with her wings fluttering haphazardly.

Rainbow Dash screwed her face up to object again, but Twilight took her by the foreleg. "I think we should get going, too. You've got a lot of work to do on the weather, and I wanted you to, you know… show me some cloud-busting techniques," she suggested, smiling cheek-to-cheek.

Rarity and Applejack protested business elsewhere, and Pinkie Pie was gorging herself in a bowl of jello, so I was left to decide what to do on my own for the first time since I stalked away from my stupid sister. It was easy to take advantage of my liberty, headed away from the café.

Ponyville was a nice little town, as far as towns went. Sure, it would have been better to have something flashier instead of quaint and country everywhere—maybe some rocket ships or at least a fully-grown dragon or two. Still, the best thing about a town full of ponies was that it was a _town full of ponies_. They were so much better than regular ponies, too, with their own unique look and coats and manes in any color a person could name. The meaning of the stamps on their rumps escaped me, though. It would be something to ask about.

That had me thinking about the lack of foals again. There hadn't been any other kids out on the streets, but no one seemed bothered. Briefly, I wondered if they were all in school, which definitely would have tainted the utopia. For that matter, where were the goblins? This town didn't look anything like the one I had seen before, and that castle was nowhere in sight.

A flash of pink hair caught my attention, and I realized I had inadvertently followed Fluttershy away from the table. She darted down an alley and through a door, slamming it shut behind her. Curious, I started after her, noting in passing that even the alleyways around here looked pleasant and clean. The windowsills even had flowerpots on them.

There was no sign of what purpose the building Fluttershy had gone into served, but it looked like it lay near the edge of town. The door looked pretty old, covered with deep scratches. I lifted a hoof and started to turn the knob, only to stop at a sharp sound from the other side.

"Reptiles? _Insects?_" Fetter's harsh voice demanded from inside, clearly confused. "Didn't we provide enough small, cute things?"

"She's insisting!" It was Fluttershy, and she didn't sound terribly pleased, either. "I don't understand. I've never failed to charm a little girl with cute animals before."

"Times've changed," Fetter said with a grunt. "I don' think they make wee girls the same way they used to. This one asks all sortsa strange questions."

"You don't know the half of it," Fluttershy breathed. "She even wanted to know where the Morgwyn went! I stayed up in the house all night to see if she'd wake up with nightmares from seeing it. That thing scares _me_."

"What, were you hopin' to comfort her or the other way around?"

"Shut it, Fetter!" Fluttershy roared, her tone shifting hard and taking on a peculiar lilt. It was like she was an entirely different pony, bursting up through the shell. "Don't ya mock me! And if'n I want to go the extra mile and help her feel safe and secure here, there ain' nothin' wrong with that. Poor wee thing, with yer lettin' the Morgwyn get its claws about her. She's gotta be shakin' in her hooves just at the thought of it."

"Fine, fine! Hel's Teeth, girl, don' tear my face off."

"I'm gettin' tired of the ribbing, Fetter."

"Hey guys," Rainbow Dash's voice came in from another direction inside. "What's up?"

She was joined by Twilight Sparkle. "Is something wrong here?"

"Nothin'," Fetter grumbled. "Just roundin' up some lizards, apparently."

Pressing one of my long ears to the door, I caught Fluttershy's question, couched in a fragile tone. "Do y'all think it's wrong of me to put so much effort into welcomin' Amelia?"

"Oh, no, no, I think it's very sweet." Twilight's tone suggested she was trying to defuse a bomb. Strange, she had that same lilt as Fluttershy, though she wasn't mangling words in the same way.

"I just wish I was a right natural like _you_," Fluttershy said softly, though it was unclear who she was addressing. "You're just so professional; it makes me nervous tryin' to perform near you."

"Geeze, not you, too. It's not like I'm doing anything special," Rainbow Dash muttered.

"Don't be so modest, it's the truth!" Twilight breathed. Her tone lowered. "I've been doing this sort of thing for a long time, and it's fascinating to watch. There's method and then there's _method_—I can't even tell right now; you're so good."

"Method?" Rainbow Dash asked. I mouthed the word, trying to figure out what Twilight meant.

I put my hoof to the knob again and focused on getting a grip on it. There had to be more to this. Fluttershy had mentioned performing. Where they all practicing for a show? Fetter was in there, too, and I was determined to get an explanation from him, as well.

Suddenly, Pinkie's voice was in my ear, whispering, "Wha'cha doin', Amy?" I sprang a full three feet into the air, every single hair of my coat standing on end.

She giggled and snorted. "The look on your face!" she wheezed between laughs.

"Pinkie…!" I hissed, rolling my eyes at the door. To answer her question, I said, "I thought I heard Fluttershy in here, and I was going in to see her."

"Oh, you don't want to go in there." Pinkie hooked her hoof around me and led me away. "It's dingy, and not very fun at all."

"But why were Twilight and Rainbow and Fetter in there? I haven't seen Fetter at all since I came here!"

"Ol' Fetty? Oh I'm sure he was just stopping by." Pinkie Pie dismissed my concerns with a wave of her hoof, before regarding me with a serious frown. "You really shouldn't be going into strange houses uninvited, though."

"Don't tell anyone, Pinkie. I didn't know it was off-limits. I swear, I won't do it again."

"Gosh, Amelia. I really should let the Princess know. We wouldn't want you getting lost or hurt or scared. What if you got trapped somewhere and we couldn't find you?"

"Please?" I gave her the puppy dog look that always worked with anyone older than me, all pouting and great, big, gleaming eyes. Even Daphne would have folded. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Pinkie Promise?"

Blinking, I looked down at my hoof, which was decidedly lacking in any kind of finger, let alone pinkies.

"No, silly." Pinkie giggled, giving me a nudge. "You do it like this." She sat down and made a little cross over her heart, chanting, "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!" She concluded it by poking her pink hoof into her eye, though she closed it first.

I watched this dubiously, but sat down. "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!" I repeated, carefully maneuvering my hoof to my socket.

"Careful you never mess that up; it's a powerful magical spell. If you break the promise or perform it wrong, horrible things happen!" Pinkie insisted with a dire tone.

"You're joking, right?" I asked. "Right?" I asked again, nervously, at her silence.

Pinkie waited until I swallowed, eyes wide, before springing up again. "Great! Let's go get donuts!" she said, before bouncing off down the street.

Left uncertain about more than just the consequences of Pinkie Promises, I trotted along behind the older mare, my thoughts back on that scratched-up old door.

I had few enough chances over the next few days to do much exploring, though, and it became very easy to forget about little things that should have bothered me. Fetter had promised me that an entire magical land was waiting for me, and, true to his word, I was the center of attention.

Just where I had always wanted to be.

That first night, I went camping with Fluttershy, who was the most boring pony ever. Leaving aside her occasional bursts of temper, she spent most of the day being afraid of her own shadow.

"Gosh," Fluttershy murmured as she kneaded the pillow under her hooves, "every week?"

"Yup, as soon as I got home from school on Friday," I affirmed, scooping another ball of ice cream into her bowl. The fireflies dancing in the lantern made Fluttershy's wide eyes glitter. She reached for her spoon, intent on me, eating up my story as voraciously as she did the double fudge. As it turned out, she was also extremely easy to gull.

"That's so horrible." She dug her spoon into the ice cream, idly picking at it. "I grew up in a dark place, too, but my parents never locked me in a breadbox."

"I know, right? And forget about ice cream—I was lucky to get stale, old bread to eat!" The little tent felt warm and comfortable, with the stars hanging outside with the moon. The nights here were so bright, unlike back home. Ponyville and all its lights looked warm and inviting off in the distance. Frogs sang from a nearby pond, a bassy accompaniment to the crickets.

Fluttershy sniffled, rubbing at her nose. "I—I had no idea humans could be so harsh. Your parents remind me of my own—" She paused, breaking off. "I mean… I sympathize, I really do. I'm so glad you came here." She surprised me a bit with her enthusiasm, drawing me into a soft, cuddly hug, with her hair falling over my side. "I won't let anything bad happen to you any more."

Ugh, that's all I needed. A girly, mushy pony getting all gooey on me. I was a big girl and I could take care of myself.

I didn't need a big sister to hold me and tell me she'd take care of me. Not at all.

"Yeah." I rubbed at my nose as I laid my head against her chest. "Yeah."

A long, gentle stillness passed between us, before Fluttershy asked, "Are you sleepy?"

"No way." I shoved a hoof into my mouth to block a yawn. "Not at all."

"Oh, so you don't want me to tuck you into bed?"

"Nuh uh. I can totally stay up all night if I want to."

"Aren't you at least going to tell Mr. Komodo Dragon good night? He looks so sleepy."

"Good night, Mr. Komodo Dragon," I said over Fluttershy's shoulder.

The enormous lizard taking up the backside of the tent opened his mouth and hissed before settling his head back between his legs again.

Really, I should have returned to my own sleeping bag, but Fluttershy was so close, and I felt so heavy. Her soft humming caught my ears and I followed the little tune as it blended in with the croaking frogs and singing crickets, drawing me down into sleep.

I took it back then. Fluttershy was a lot of things, and boring was the least important of them.

The next day was spent in preparation for an impossible task.

"I don't understand why we keep having to play this game," Rarity whined beside me.

"Shush!" I shushed her, concentrating on the idea of remaining still. "You're going to give us away."

She _harrumphed_ and shifted irritably, trying to avoid rustling the mottled camouflage net stretched over our concealment. "I still don't see why I needed to be here for this."

"I needed you to help me set up the net," I explained, keeping my voice low. "I don't plan on losing again."

"You should really just give up at this point. You're such a persistent little girl."

"Failure is not an option!"

"Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances. She might be gracious enough to—"

My ears swiveled as the rattle of cans caught our attention. Rarity quieted in sudden apprehension.

"That's the north perimeter," I whispered, turning around slowly to face the trees. Through the netting, lines hung with soup cans were faintly visible, rattling. They subsided after a moment, leaving only the breeze.

Silence reigned in the enclosure.

Rarity breathed a sigh. "I think she must have moved on, she—" Whatever she had to say was lost in a terrified squeal as something fast grabbed her from below, hauling her through the branches.

I immediately sprang out of the camouflaged tree house, running as fast as my little legs could take me and leaving Rarity to her fate. It was too late for her in any case. I wasn't going to lose, no matter what!

As I ran through the brush, I could hear Rarity's assailant gaining behind me. It was my doom, slouching towards our fated appointment. It had a distinct, unmistakable sound:

_Boing, boing, boing_.

Despair wracked me. It was impossible and I knew it. By running I was only delaying the inevitable.

Nobody could beat Pinkie Pie at Hide-and-Seek.

Nobody.

The day after that, I spent some time talking with Applejack and Twilight.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure you're putting me on," Applejack protested. "Who the heck even came up with an idea like that? It'd drive me crazy having to keep track, let alone the cost of giving that many presents."

"Well, Applejack, if you don't want to respect my culture that's perfectly okay with me," I said, in a tone of understanding. That was very easy to do while sitting on a pile of gift boxes as big as I was. "What if I told you that housewarming gifts had to be made from your own hair? That would be completely unreasonable."

"I like it," Twilight said, brightly. "It encourages mathematical reasoning."

"You would." Applejack's glare passed from me to Twilight. "If you make me give _you_ a housewarming gift for every prime numbered day you've lived here, I'm going to cave in your skull."

"Well, think about it," Twilight pointed out, "they don't need to be big gifts, and tomorrow is the fourth day, so we don't need to give her anything at all. Then it's just the fifth, seventh, eleventh, thirteenth, seventeenth, nineteenth…"

Twilight trailed off, and looked at me suspiciously. Comprehension dawned on her features.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence. It was probably a little spoiled by my giant grin.

Not every day was as fun as the others, though. There were a few things in the world that could completely sap a young filly of strength. One of these was a vampire, who could suck her blood out and leave her a dried, broken husk. Another was the soporific droning of a two-hundred-year old English teacher who didn't understand the budding genius represented in a young girl's essay about how adding dinosaurs would infinitely improve Congress.

The most powerful, however, would have to be sitting around in the Carousel Boutique while she watched Rarity try and find a dress.

I rolled my eyes—the only part of my body that still functioned well—to look at Pinkie Pie. My hooves dangled lifelessly over the the chair Rarity had me sitting on, while the rest of me was slung over it like melted ice cream. "Kill me."

Pinkie giggled, nudging me so that I slid off the chair and flopped onto the floor. An increasingly harried-looking Rarity didn't notice, pins stuck in her hair, which had come awry. When she had invited me in off the street with Pinkie Pie an hour or so before, she had been full of verve and confidence, intent on seeing me in a new dress that would strike me blind with awe—or so she said. Suiting action to words was proving more challenging to her than she had thought.

To be entirely fair, it wasn't really her fault. I'd sworn a curse upon all dresses several months ago, and Mother had already despaired of trying to put me into one ever again. Becoming a pony wasn't sufficient to change my mind.

After what must have been the twentieth little filly dress to fail my test floated past me in a red haze, I waved a hoof. "What are you doing with all of these foal dresses?" I asked, confused. No one had yet given me a satisfactory answer to the question of where all the foals were. It seemed ridiculous to suggest that they might _still_ be in school.

Rarity carefully clutched a light blue sundress to herself. "I made them for you." She brushed her frazzled hair back with a forehoof and opened a large trash bin at the back of the room, her white hooves cringing back from the opening as she floated the dress over towards it in a red aura. "Well," she went on, "I suppose you can go, then. It was nice having you over, dear."

Normally, I might have been flippant, carrying on the disdain I had already shown her. It's how I would have paid back Daphne or Mother after a long day at the mall. Of course, the flaw in that idea was that neither of them had ever made a dress for me with her own hooves—or hands—and certainly had never looked that hurt at my rejection. It sucked the fun right out of defiance.

"Wait!" I lifted my head up off the floor. Rarity froze in the act of rearing up, to more dramatically cast the debased work into the rubbish heap, I suppose. "The dresses aren't, you know, _bad,_" I prevaricated, and stretched for a way to salvage the situation. "They just could be…"

"Yes. _Yes?_" Rarity asked, with vibrant impatience, as she dropped back to all four hooves. Pinkie Pie looked at me curiously, as well, as I stood up. Rarity's tools hovered over her work station, bolts of cloth poised at the ready.

"_Cooler_." I waved a hoof expansively as I settled on the most apt descriptor.

"Cooler?" Rarity asked, her and her tools visibly drooping a little.

"Yeah, they need to be… cooler." There really wasn't another way to describe what I meant.

It was like watching a grape shrivel up in the sun. My callous dismissal of her entire catalogue had evidently put her in a bad spot. Frantic, she started to push aside the racks of hoof-stitched clothes and threw open a large closet near the back, where mannequins were collecting dust.

"I don't think mannequin is the right word," Pinkie Pie contemplated aloud.

"Ponyquin? Horsequin? Gosh-I'm-an-equinequin?" I offered.

"No, no, clotheshorse!" she decided, satisfied.

"Oh, that just won't _do_," Rarity moaned from the back, and I trotted over to see what she was doing. "Ridiculous! Untenable!"

Outfits were being cast out in her rampage, each one progressively worse than the last. The further back she dug, the more amateurish the stitching and color-blind the dresses got. When a loud clanking emanated from the back, however, my ears swivelled forward immediately. "Is that… armor?"

Rarity, her hair in disarray, poked her head out from behind a great stack of boxes. "What, armor?" she demanded.

Digging in, I took hold of a rack in my teeth and pulled it back out into the sewing room. The layers of dust made me sneeze, and I wiped my nose before circling around my find. It was hung with what looked to be pony armor, except it was all fashioned in a way that suggested the armorer had been trying to design them as upper class outfits. One featured a top hat made out of polished steel, and one dress was all in scale armor, with patterns of electroplated copper and silver.

"Oh, no!" Rarity cried, dismayed. She scrambled down off the boxes and skittered across the smooth floor in her haste. It was, if anything, reminiscent of someone who had been caught and wanted desperately to cover everything up again. "Don't look at that!" she begged, and stammered on, "I-it's awful, just awful! Early work. How did that even get in there? Hah hah!" Her forced laugh didn't quite hide the tremor in her voice. She glanced to Pinkie Pie with what almost seemed to be fright, but Pinkie just sat there and grinned, enjoying the show.

With no support forthcoming, Rarity put her head to the side of the rack and started to push it back into the closet. "I'll… I'll just… cover this up, and we can all pretend we never saw it. I-it's just—"

"—awesome!" I interrupted.

That stopped Rarity up short. "Awesome?" she wheezed. Her panting breaths deepened as she caught some air, and she asked again, "What do you mean?"

"You made _armor_? That is just _so cool_." I was surprised she couldn't see it herself. Going back over to the rack, I lifted one of the skirts, which had brushed steel petals over a chainmail hem—the material was fantastically light and thin, with links so small that it practically shimmered against the sunlight. "This is so light, too! I think someone could actually wear this."

Rarity was flabbergasted. She lifted a scuffed white hoof, as if to protest, but instead rose up and circled around the rack. "I really shouldn't," she demurred, staring at me a moment before looking to Pinkie Pie for answers again. "I'm not supposed to—I mean, I _used_ to work in armor, yes, but—"

"Can you imagine how cool I would look in armor?" I said, hopping up to put my hooves on Rarity's chest, grinning from ear to ear. "Please, Rarity? You can make a special outfit for me and I'll pose and everything!"

"I—I don't know. I, I really shouldn't." Rarity bit her lip, but her eyes were softening. It wouldn't be long before she folded.

"Well," I wheedled, walking over to one of the outfits Rarity had put together for me earlier, lifting a pile of sewn green silk with a hoof, "I _suppose_ it wouldn't hurt for me to try one of these on, too. It would be the least I could do in return."

"Like a sweet Nightmare Night costume?" Pinkie Pie asked.

"If that means Halloween then sure," I agreed. "If I'm going to get a special outfit, it ought to be some awesome costume. A super pony of some sort!"

"Yes." Rarity grew more animated with every word of my encouragement. "Yes, yes I could… a bit of maille there, maybe some jewelry to alleviate… yes, I can see it!" Her mane and tail had recovered their bounce, somehow, and she clapped her hooves on the floor. "Oh, Amelia, my little darling, I will make you positively shine!"

Taking back my thoughts from earlier, I revised my opinion of Rarity's shop. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a boring place after all. I ran a hoof along the green silk of the gown I had touched thoughtfully, imagining what I might look like in it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

The following day was largely wasted arguing with Princess Twilight.

"But Twilight," I whined, beating my hooves impatiently on the hewn floor of the library. Books loomed from every shelf, on every subject imaginable, but only one genre interested me at the moment. Of all of the subjects covered in the library, only one of them was a subject I couldn't find back home. "You promised you'd teach me magic!"

Well, okay, three if I counted _Unicorn Horn Grooming_ and _Care of Magical Creatures_. That last one was probably worth checking out, but a girl can only focus on so many awesome things at a time.

"Amelia, sweetheart, while you are proving to be a very precocious little girl, I am afraid it would be entirely irresponsible of me to take you on as my pupil. When I said 'all in good time' I _meant_ that you would have to wait a few years until you grew up," Twilight explained from her wooden throne at the back of the library, its seat piled with cushions and its back rising into a carved owl head. "Also, it is _Princess_ Twi—" She had started to correct me, but then bit her lip to cut herself off, furrowing her brow.

"Hah! See?" I pointed an accusatory hoof in her direction. "You'll keep your promise to Rainbow Dash, but you try to back out when it comes time to own up to mine!"

"T-that's not really the same thing!" she asserted, turning her nose up and looking anywhere in the library but at me.

"It totally is." My hoof came down hard. "You didn't say anything about waiting for a while; you said you'd teach me later, and what better time is there? I mean, what did you _expect_ me to do with you in the library?" I demanded. "You sit and read on your throne while I sit and read over there?"

Twilight crushed a nearby book to her chest defensively. "Uhm. No. That is not at all what I planned. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Look at it this way, Twilight." I started pulling books off the shelves. "This is a library, right? I can check these books out and read them on my own time. I've got a nice room with a table and everything."

"I suppose that's true," she admitted, cautiously, setting her book upon the armrest of her throne. "Still, you shouldn't be practicing dangerous magic in the middle of a flammable library."

"Where do you practice?"

"Why, I practice—" Twilight paused, and then finished lamely, "…in the library."

"Ooh, I see. Right here, in the library," I repeated, grinning broadly as I pranced over to her side.

Twilight rubbed her face with a hoof. For some reason, adults tended to do that a lot around me. "Fine, fine. But I won't teach you unicorn magic."

"Aww, c'mon," I pressed, swishing my tail in agitation.

"No, I can't," she affirmed, only to quickly correct herself. "That is, you're just not old enough—it wouldn't work. I _can_ teach you some other magic, though. Clever magic."

Scrunching my face up, I protested, "It's not, like, stage magic, is it? Not that that can't be cool, but I can learn that any old place. Come on, Twilight, teach me something _awesome_."

The face above mine broke into a grin of her own, and Twilight lifted her wings to block out the windows above the chair, casting us into shadow. "Oh, no, no, my persistent little foal. It's related to stage magic, but _better_. It's a crafty sort of magic that not just anyone can learn. Oh, I know it, of course, but then I'm one of the best," she said, rising to my challenge with an arrogant flip of her mane.

This intrigued me a great deal. It seemed I had cut through some of Twilight's outer layers, for starters, as I had never seen her acting quite like this. It was almost as if she were an entirely different pony. For two, this sounded like genuinely interesting magic.

"Why can't just anyone learn it?" I inquired, tilting my ears forward.

"Can anyone learn to fly through the air or burrow underground? No, you need to have the right qualities, dear. Once upon a time, even Man could do it, but they seem to have lost the way of it."

"But I can? I was a human—is it because I'm a pony now?"

Twilight laughed mockingly, leaping lightly off the throne and concentrating to shift the heavy table out of the center of the library with a flare of red magic. "I doubt most ponies could do it, either. It requires a serious commitment and a willingness to ignore conventional thinking. Two things, I have noticed, that you possess in abundance."

"Mom always did say I lived in my own world, does that count?"

"It's a start!"

Sweeping her hoof in an arc, she threw sparkling powder into the light. To anyone who _had_ studied a bit of stage magic, it was painfully obvious what she was doing, trying to attract audience attention so that whatever she was _really_ doing wouldn't noticed. In just a moment she would be holding up a hoofful of roses or have produced something with her tail or—

—or maybe she could have vanished entirely. From the middle of a fair-sized, well-lit room, with all available exits in plain view.

"Boo," Twilight said, right into my ear.

Squealing, I leapt off my chair, hooves flailing in the air.

Twilight's laugh was genuine, as deep and rich as any I had heard before. It was hard not to laugh with her, but it was just so surprising to hear it. Ever since the first day, she had been so straight-laced and reserved.

"You cheated!" I accused, trying to spot the trick. "You used unicorn magic! I bet you just used the powder to hide the red glow from me!"

"Oh, no, _this_ is unicorn teleportation." She set herself solidly and closed her eyes. With obvious effort on her part, a red fire built up along her horn. With a burst of sound and light, she vanished and then appeared on the top of the stairs overlooking the main floor. She slumped, drained, with a hoof and tail dangling over the side limply. "See? Not so… easy to hide," she wheezed. "Can't imagine doing that spell more than once."

"So what was that?" I pressed.

"A Vanish."

"But," I murmured, and frowned, "that's the same term used by magicians when they make something disappear, in stage illusions."

"Illusion, hah!" Twilight scoffed, disdainful. "They wouldn't know _illusion_ if it bit them in the face." Rising, she shook herself and returned to the first floor. "As I said, once upon a time, you could call a human a conjurer without laughing, but no more. They use the same names and the same ideas still, but I doubt any of them have an idea of how to really do it. All sleight-of-hand and smoke and mirrors. Those things help, but they aren't real illusion."

"You mean sleight-of-hoof, right?"

"Yes, sure, sleight-of-hoof. Meant that."

"So you're telling me that you can teach me how to actually do what stage magicians pretend to do?" I asked, my tail nearly wagging behind me.

"A portion of it, perhaps. Of course, I wouldn't teach just _anyone_…" Twilight trailed off.

"What? Who would you teach? I thought it was me!" I yelped.

"A magician can't simply tell her secrets to any silly filly who comes along begging for it," Twilight insisted, lifting her head and foreleg in a posture of indifference. "No, no, I fear it's simply impossible."

That witch. She had me.

Sliding to my rear knees and lifting my hooves imploringly, I begged her, "Please, I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" she asked slyly. "To become my apprentice and learn my tricks?"

"Anything!"

"Argh!" I screamed in frustration. "I hate you, Twilight Sparkle!"

"Something wrong, squirt?" Rainbow Dash asked, drifting in above me on a cloud. The mare snickered, trying to keep herself from laughing. "Wow, what happened here?"

With my face smeared in white paint, I glared up at her. Where my hooves weren't stained with paint, black ink had been rubbed in so deep I couldn't scrub them out. It's like Twilight had never even _heard_ of a ballpoint pen.

"I—" Pausing for effect, I drew myself up with an indignant pose "—am _painting a fence_."

Rainbow looked around from her vantage point at the paint-stained grass and walkway, the white-coated roots of the tree, the paint-splattered plants in the garden near the library, and my own paint-coated form. Pretty much everything except for the fence that should have been painted.

"You missed a spot," Rainbow pointed out.

"_Ugh_," I spat, and kicked my paint can over. Normally this would have been a terrible idea, but it had already been emptied of its contents.

Rainbow's chortling wasn't helping. She was doing everything she could to keep from falling off her cloud. Stamping my hoof and pouting only made her laugh harder.

Wiping her eyes, she grinned down at me. "You look like a filly who really, really needs something better to do."

"I'm supposed to do chores for Twilight," I muttered.

"Yeah, you sound real excited about that," she replied sarcastically.

"She promised to teach me magic!"

Rainbow fluttered down, hovering effortlessly in the air upon her cloud. She tilted up the lid of the paint can, peering in. "Don't see any magic here."

"I'm her apprentice," I countered. "I'm supposed to do chores to earn lessons."

"Yeah? What kind of things have you been doing for her?" she asked in return, nudging the paint can to send it rolling away.

"Uh," I considered, lifting a hoof to count off. After realizing that I couldn't count on fingers I didn't have, I resorted to tapping on the accursed fence. "I sorted the returned books. I copied her notes for her research. I scrubbed the windows. I swept the floors…"

Rainbow raised a brow. "Sounds more like you're doing Spike's work than learning magic."

"Who's Spike?" I asked.

Rainbow waved a hoof. "Not important. So, how much magic has she _actually_ taught you?"

"A bit! Watch." I reached around, grabbing a half-finished apple from my basket. Concentrating, I held it upright on one hoof and sat down to ready the other forehoof. "Okay, now, watch: I'm going to make this apple disappear. One, two, three, Vanish!" I commanded aloud, putting all of my focus into it, and clapped my hooves together.

With a squishy crunch, the apple flattened between my forehooves and dribbled applejuice down over the white paint, further staining my coat.

"Well, the apple _is_ gone," Rainbow pointed out. She was so full of useful advice today.

"I was able to do it earlier," I whined with a pout. "I mean, we weren't able to find the apple again, but I did Vanish it! Twilight said that counted for something."

"That doesn't sound like unicorn magic at all to me. Are you sure she isn't just playing with your head?"

I hung my head. "She said she couldn't teach me unicorn magic."

"Really. Huh," Rainbow said. She scuffed at her cloud awkwardly.

"Something up?" I asked her, uncertainly.

"Nothing much. It's just, you know, I thought we'd talk a bit."

"Oh?" That was surprising. Rainbow hadn't been around all that much so far. "About what?"

Rainbow opened her mouth to speak, but the library door being slammed open caught our attention. Twilight stormed out, her hooves stamping on the earth. "Amelia!"

"Scram, kid!" Rainbow shouted, taking her cloud and racing off.

Heeding her advice, I raced off into town, laughing as Twilight's angry declarations trailed after me.

Dusty old books had their own smell. A musty, rich smell. There were hints of things that a girl like me couldn't even guess at. Each one had pages of faded ink in pony script, with colorful illustrations interspacing them. The images had not merely been inked in, as I discovered when I ran my hoof gently across one of a winged unicorn backed by the sun, they had been painted on.

Pinkie Pie snored enthusiastically on the table by the window, her face plastered onto the cover of the book _Unicorn Horn Care_. A towel shoved under her mouth kept her drool from ruining the cover. Twilight might have killed both of us if that had happened. These books were pretty old, after all. Propped up pillows and the sun streaming in through the open window made for a perfect reading environment. It was warm and comfortable in the early morning sunlight.

Of course, the contents weren't nearly as interesting as the question of why these books were so old. It was another puzzle to add to the ones Ponyville had already presented. A whole library run by a bibliophile and all of the contents seemed to be older than dirt.

Wandering eyes told me that I wasn't going to get any more reading done right then. It wasn't that pony script was all that hard to read once someone showed you how the little symbols were all sounds, but there was nothing to be done about it once restlessness set in.

I set the book aside and moved quietly, so as not to rouse Pinkie, over to my storage chest, pulling out a length of yarn and a pair of scissors marked with Rarity's diamonds. The yarn was long and thin and the same color as Rarity's hair, and the scissors sliced through it easily.

"Now, Twilight did it kinda like…" I put the two ends together, muttering to myself. Covering the two ends with a hoof, I tried to concentrate on the idea that they should be whole again. Restored. "And do it with a flourish."

Counting in my head, I stuck my tongue out and snapped my hooves against the top of the chest twice, where the table lay, and—

"Hey, kid," Rainbow Dash announced from the window.

—completely lost my balance, tumbled backwards as I jolted up, and failed to maintain my balance on my rear hooves alone. Rainbow caught me in her strong forelimbs, holding me steady. Pinkie Pie snorted once, then rolled her snout over, mumbling into the towel, "Nah mam, I dun' want more crickets… ah'm full…"

"Sweet jumping jackalopes, Rainbow, you made me jump out of my coat!" I hissed, if not entirely displeased. Rainbow Dash was one of the best parts about this place.

"Again with the weird sayings, kid. C'mere." Rainbow grabbed me around my barrel, carting me off like a sack of grain. Stifling a yelp, I tried to hold on to the yarn, only for the spool to slip free and fall as I was lifted. It was impossible to tell if it was my imagination or not, but it seemed as if only one whole thread fell to the floor as we left.

It was always fun to travel this way. Not that walking and running everywhere tirelessly didn't have its appeal, but there was something about the bird's eye view that really captured the imagination. Ponyville was so very small from on high, too. Even from as low up in the sky as we were going, it looked like little more than a few thatched roofed cottages and the homes of our friends.

Come to think of it, that seemed a little strange in and of itself. Trying to count as we flew was an exercise in failure, though. It just kept coming up as different numbers every time.

Oddly, I couldn't recall ever seeing Rainbow Dash's home. I supposed that I probably couldn't visit it in any case, seeing as how I didn't have any wings.

"Say, Rainbow, why do you suppose Twilight keeps skipping out while I do chores to go visit your place?" I asked, hoping that was roundabout enough not to arouse too much suspicion.

"Heck if I know, she's been weird ever since I got here."

Maybe that was _too_ roundabout. Changing tact, I asked, "Where are we going, you think? Out to Fluttershy's?"

"Went there last week," Rainbow said, distracted.

"Movie theater?"

"Already saw those pictures. Besides, I thought you didn't really like pony movies?" Rainbow pointed out, and banked to catch an updraft.

"None of them I _saw_. How about Rarity's?"

"Ugh."

"But I wanted to see how my special project was doing!" I protested.

"You can see it later," she shot back. After an awkward pause, she seemed to realize that might have been a little harsh. "Sorry. Hey, how about Sweet Apple Acres? I am hankering for a bite."

A little taken aback, I answered a little hesitantly, "Uh, yeah, sure, I guess. I was supposed to go over there later to see Applejack, anyway. Not that I was in a big hurry, her idea of a good time always seems to involve work."

Winging out over the apple orchards, which started where the town ended, we landed somewhere behind the barn. "So, uhm… Rainbow," I put forward nervously, scuffing my hoof. It was weird having to talk like this to an adult. "You've kinda been a little short with me, lately. Did I do something wrong?"

Before, pony expressions had been clear enough in the broad strokes, if only because their faces were so easy to read. After spending so long with them, though, the more subtle features had started to become clear. The tightness around Rainbow's eyes deepened slightly. It was a look I probably should have recognized earlier.

"It's nothing, kid." Her voice was tense, sharper than usual. "Hold on, let me get some apples," she announced, and went over to a tree.

"It's so obviously not nothing!" I objected, trotting over to join her. Expecting her to fly up and fetch some, I watched her scuff her rear hooves against the tree instead. It was as if she was marking a spot.

"Hold on, don't want to mess this up." She slowly put her hind leg through the motions of a buck, lining up the strike with her mark. "Won't be pretty for anyone."

"Uhm, Rainbow, there are no apples there." I eyed her curiously. "Are you going to knock down the whole tree? I don't think Applejack will be very happy about that."

Instead of responding, Rainbow abruptly reared up on her forelegs and thrust out her lower body. There was a sound _thunk_ as her hooves connected with the trunk, and then a forest of soft thuds as apples bounced off the earth.

"How the heck did you do that?" I asked, at a loss. "Wow, if you can do that, why does Applejack keep hiring people to pick her apples?"

Rainbow shrugged indifferently. "Beats me, I don't tell her how to run her farm." She looked down at me. An awkward silence broke out as neither of us said anything.

I was beginning to wonder why Rainbow had picked me up. It was almost as if she didn't want to hang out at all. Before I could really frame a thought, though, she picked up and apple and tossed it to me.

"Look, kid," she began, "it's not like I don't like hanging out with you. You're an okay kid, most of the time, but hasn't this been going on a while now?"

A frown crossed my lips as I crunched the apple between my teeth rather than answer.

My confusion must have spoken louder than words, because she shook her head and snarfed an apple down in a single gulp—there was _one_ way to vanish a stupid apple, all right—and went on, "Sure, a day or two was fun, but how long has it been now?"

"What're you saying?" I asked, uncertain. This whole conversation was making me think of the last one my sister and I had together, and that was not an entirely comfortable idea.

"Oh, cut it out," she told me, irritably. "You can't be that dense."

"I am not dense!" I shouted back at her. "You're obtuse! I'm not stupid!"

"Ob-what?" she asked, blinking, but waved it off. "Forget it. Look, I don't really know what all this is about, but I'm pretty much done with it."

"Done with what? What are you saying?" I snapped, a lot more fiercely than I intended. "What, are you going to leave me here?"

"I didn't say that!" Rainbow said, defensively. "I was _so_ not about to say that."

"Well, what _are_ you saying?" My tail was lashing behind me like a cat's. It probably would have been a better idea to take my tone down a notch. Every time I started to think about taking a step back, however, something ugly reared up in me.

"I mean more that this is getting a little old," Rainbow tried to explain, reaching a hoof out to my shoulder.

"Yeah? So you're finally honest about something, huh?" I almost growled, swatting it away. Before she could parse that, I continued, "You don't think I've noticed weird things going on? How there's no other foals but me? How about how you guys keep meeting behind my back?"

"Amy, calm down—"

"No!" It was like some beast roaring up from deep inside of me. Rainbow Dash could have been Daphne, with that same distant look my sister had the last time I'd seen her. The same feeling of helpless rage coiling up and charging through me, carrying my words along with it. "You don't really care about me at all, do you?"

It was Rainbow's turn to look shocked. Her wings flared up, and she set herself angrily. "Now just hold on a minute, kid—" she started, but that was about as far as she got.

"Rainbow Dash!" Twilight Sparkle shouted, and glided to an awkward landing nearby. She took one look at the two of us and stamped a hoof, demanding, "What is going on here? Why are you two fighting? Why did you steal my apprentice?"

"You know what, forget it," Rainbow snapped, turning to trot away with a quick, angry gait.

Twilight started after her, quickly. "Wait! Rainbow, what's wrong?" Twilight softened her tone. "Was it something I said? I'm really sorry about that comment. It was uncalled for, I know."

"No, it's not that."

"We can work it out, whatever it is. Just talk to me, Dashie! Don't be like this," Twilight pleaded.

"Hailstones!" Rainbow shouted at the sky. "No, I'm not going to put up with _this_, either. I don't know what you're doing, _Twilight_, and I don't care. I'm getting out of here _right now!_"

Twilight gasped, taken aback, as she held a hoof to her chest—strangely, it seemed more… genuine than last time, back at the café—as Rainbow spread her wings and shot off into the sky. It wasn't long before she was a tiny, blue speck in the sky, Twilight reaching out plaintively for her. Torn, Twilight hesitated for a moment before she bolted off. "Rainbow, wait!" she called out, throwing herself awkwardly into the air with a desperate sort of energy.

Left baffled and confused, I sat down, trying to digest what had just happened. For maybe the first time in my young life, I really tried to think about my situation. This proved impossible while sitting, so I wandered towards the barn, trying to put two and two together.

From up here in the orchards, the whole town was revealed, nestled between green hills that faded to blue in the distance. What was so odd about a town of colorful ponies that seemed to devote a good part of every day to making sure I was well-cared for and satisfied? After all, they were under orders from their princess, who seemed to think that I was important. While that was a perfectly reasonable conclusion, it did seem odd that she'd just forget about me for so long if I _was _an important human child who they had been waiting for.

The barn was empty upon first glance as I nosed my way into it, looking for a pile of hay to lay down on. Strands of golden chaff were visible from the loft, however—Applejack had probably had them moved there to make room for the harvest. I scaled the ladder and found a spot among the cushy hay, settling in. As it turned out, it also made a great morning snack.

Munching happily on some of my bedding, I was all ready to put some serious thought in when the barn door slammed fully open. Thinking to surprise Applejack, I got ready to jump down, but froze when I saw a blond pegasus mare propelled in from outside. She fell and scrambled back, away from a shadow looming against the morning sunlight, her hat a great circle of darkness across the barn floor.

"So, thought you'd have a go at me with your chummers, then, eh?" Applejack asked. Her voice was in a strange lilt, just like the others had been in that room.

Rather a lot like Fetter's, now that I think about it.

"No, no, it ain' that. We was just, y'know," the mare stammered, trying to find her feet again, "tryin' to get a bit of variety. Y'know, for the kid. I thought it'd be cute!"

The trembling mare seemed familiar with her blond hair. Thinking back, I vaguely remembered a mare trying to get my attention by clowning around near one of the stands, juggling apples and letting them bounce off her head.

"Cute? Oh yeah, real cute tryin' to upstage me," Applejack growled, striding forward into the barn. Her shadow swallowed the other mare up, and she put a hoof down hard on her flank to keep her from getting up. "You're a _bit_ player. You're a part of the _background_. Me? I'm a flippin' star, I am, and I'm not going to let a jumped up little understudy like you steal the spotlight."

"It'll never happen again, swear it!" the mare wibbled, trying to squirm out from under her.

"Yer damn right it will," Applejack said, and shoved her nose against the other pony's, "or I'll beat you until you really are cross-eyed. We tidy?"

"Tidy, tidy!" she squealed.

Applejack held her there for a moment more before letting her go. The grey pegasus scrambled out of the barn as fast as she could go, half-rising off the ground with her wings flapping desperately. Applejack walked over to the barn entrance and leaned against the frame. With a flourish of her hoof, she produced a cigarette out of thin air, and then a second flourish produced a match with which she lit it.

My heart pounded in my ears. It wasn't so much adrenaline from watching Applejack play schoolyard bully to some mare. It wasn't even the revelation that Applejack could perform the same sort of magic Twilight had been teaching me.

It was the icy, damp feeling of having been played for an idiot.

"Stupid, stupid!" I muttered to myself, wanting to bang my head against the loft, though that surely would have attracted Applejack's attention. The certain knowledge that I had gladly let myself be roped into an obvious play staged for my benefit burned like a bed of hot coals smoldering in my gut. The worst part about it was that it was so _obvious_. Anyone smart should have figured it out _days_ ago.

"One had wondered how long it would take you to figure it out, bairn," a voice hissed near my ear.

They often say in stories that you can bite your tongue in trying to be silent. Turns out that it's not only true, but that it hurts a great deal.

Applejack turned her head and I ducked down, quickly, but she only stamped out her cigarette and walked out into the sunlight. Probably to find me, actually, since I was due to meet her soon.

Craning my neck around, I stared into the darkness around me. Straight above me, up in the rafters, a pair of cold blue fires stared down. "Morg!" I whispered, in case Applejack was still close enough to listen. "Where have you been?"

"Here. There," the cat-thing said indifferently, falling with ghostly silence to land on the loft's supporting beams, its tail curling up for balance. "Might wonder how bright the bairn truly is. The Morgwyn had wondered if she would remain ignorant forever."

"Didn't you tell me that this was waiting for me? That there was a special place here, just for me?" I accused, remembering that night in the woods when we had first met.

"This one claimed that a fabulous kingdom awaited you, of song and magic. Has the Morgwyn not delivered?"

"Well," I scowled a bit, "I suppose there have been both songs and magic, and this is a kingdom."

"Then the Morgwyn has delivered."

I rose up on my hooves indignantly. "But it's not real!"

"Real enough. Real magic, no?" it asked, languidly, flexing and sharpening its claws on the wood, leaving great gaps.

"They're lying, though. To me. This is all just…" I trailed off, frowning and lowering my head slightly. "It's a show. Like a magic show."

"One wonders if you plan to torture through this reasoning as slowly as the last."

"No. Come on." I rose to my feet. Sliding down the ladder, I crept to the barn door and peered out carefully. Applejack was directing other ponies outside, getting wagons and barrels together in preparation for the harvest. Waiting until they were all suitably occupied, I galloped at full tilt towards the town.

Hopefully no one saw me as I snuck back to my house as stealthily as I could. Crates and stands made the best cover, and it seemed that no one spotted me. Without Pinkie or one of her friends herding me along, I was free to take the shortest path, but it was like walking into a different town entirely.

Doors had been thrown open, and ponies were lounging around tables, playing cards and reading aloud from scripts held awkwardly in their hooves. Ponies I had thought were gardeners were oiling up wagons, while one I had thought was a carpenter was going around pouring coffee into great jugs, which were consumed with obvious relish by bleary-eyed mares and stallions. Everywhere, they were speaking with heavy accents, laughing and joking.

It was rather a lot like being backstage at a play. It felt like betrayal, actually.

Scrunching down on my belly, I skittered across a few yards of open street to get into my house. I bypassed the gifts and games scattered about the first floor. Pinkie Pie had gone, which meant that it was probably only a matter of time before they started looking for me in earnest. Grabbing my bag and slinging it around my shoulder, I turned and started back down the stairs.

"…poor dear must be just brokenhearted," Fluttershy's voice drifted up to greet me, and I retreated back upstairs, quickly. "I always thought she was just puttin' on."

"We all did," Rarity agreed. Like Twilight, her accent was very controlled, not as earthy as the others. "It was in the profile that they were together, wasn't it? All of the times they met in the library. Reading the same books. Or how about that time Dash broke her wing? It's just blindingly obvious."

"Aye." There was a clink of ceramic. "Dash is so—you know. I can kinda see it. Though it's weird how she never breaks character," Fluttershy continued, but I had lost interest. They didn't know I was missing, but they didn't sound like they were moving any time soon.

Backing away from the stairs, I went to check the windows. Both looked out over inhabited streets, making a clean exit impossible. A glance around showed that the Morgwyn was nowhere to be seen, either, despite my telling it to follow me. Gnawing on my lip for a moment, I looked around the room one last time. "I need a distraction."

Moving the chest would make it scrape along the floor and that would create all sorts of noise, so that wouldn't do. My eyes flicked from the chest to the contents within. Grinning, I grabbed Twilight's library bag and shoveled toys into it.

I grabbed the bag with my teeth and hurled it out the open window. There was a loud clanging and then a chorus of swears. I'd managed to brain one of the ponies setting up shop out front. Fluttershy and Rarity raced out just as I'd hoped, the former pulling the stallion toward the house to check on his head. He had stopped swearing once they arrived on the scene, and didn't really seem quite as bothered as he had been a moment ago.

I raced down the stairs and made for the door. With only a quick peek before darting outside, I hid behind a nearby sign and started to creep towards Sugarcube Corner and my ultimate destination. It didn't take me nearly as long as I might have thought, either. My suspicions about the actual size of the town were being confirmed with every step.

Each time one of the girls had taken me around town, it had seemed to take forever. There were always several turns and a fair amount of walking. Now I had some idea of why: one of the houses was half-open. Not merely doors and windows, but the entire facade of it was being disassembled in convenient blocks that could be turned around to make it look subtly different. A store sign was hung out for saddles and reins.

I took it back. It didn't feel like being backstage at a play. It felt like being a piece in somebody's model town.

"Amelia!" Pinkie Pie's voice called, echoing up over the houses. "Amy, Amy, oxen free!"

"_Crap_."

"I didn't even get to count to one hundred! Sneaky, sneaky!" Her voice was already closer. She could have been on the rooftops, or even around the corner.

If there was one thing I had learned here, it was that no one could beat Pinkie Pie at Hide-and-Seek. No pony, either, for that matter.

There was only one way out of this.

Tearing off, I galloped at full speed, deliberately shoulder-checking one of the ladders as I went. The working pony using it to change the facade of the building tumbled, and others rushed to help him while I ran off in the confusion. Someone spotted me, but they were too late to do anything to stop me as I leapt around a corner.

The springy sound of a pony hopping was closing in. With little time to spare, I bounded the rest of the way down the dark alley to the door in the wall at the end of the lane. Panting, I put my hoof to the knob, and hesitated.

One part of me was afraid. Afraid of provoking whatever force had arranged this fake town. Afraid of running into a whole battalion of armed guards.

Maybe even a little afraid of giving up the people I had thought were my friends.

Another part of me, however, was the same part that had looked at a monster in the light of the moon and saw the potential to go where no one had ever gone before. Into places no one had ever dared imagine.

I thrust the door open and tumbled through, into darkness.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

***twilight zone music***  
Strange things are afoot in Phonyville.

Man, I am _so_ glad to finally be posting this chapter. I wrote this way back in _April_. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that Arabic font resolves on Fimfic - that's one of my favorite Quranic verses.

So here we get to see what Amelia was up to... for a time. You'll notice that she spends a week here. The next scene with Daphne takes place in her time frame and she needs to catch up, which won't happen for a few chapters, but I won't leave you bereft of Amy's perspective just yet.

This is only the beginning of strange happenings in her life. As I've said before, this is as much Amelia's story as it is Daphne's. The goblins may have intended this for Daphne eight years ago, but Amy is the one neck deep in it now.  
And don't worry - her little friends will be back. Their part in this isn't done at all.

Check the original out at FimFiction here: story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


	5. Chapter 5 - A Whole New World

Chapter 5: A Whole New World

"**Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore." André Gide**

**Daphne**

There were only so many strange, new things a person could take in one night. I'd wrestled with an alien, been transformed into a figment of my imagination, and fled through the woods from Heaven-only-knew-what, and it had all taken its toll. After coming so far and enduring so much, though, a line had to be drawn.

"No! I won't accept it!" I declared, stamping my hoof.

Naomi patted the air in front of her. "Daphne, please, be reasonable." Her braid had been loosed, and Equestria's vibrant moon cast silver moonbeams through her red curls.

The subtle colors of our campsite could be picked out in that dim moonlight, too, yet it still possessed the same ethereal grace of the moon back on Earth. Imperfections in the surrounding forest were forgiven in the deeper shadows, and a gentle pond glowed silver.

All told, it was a majestic sight all by itself.

All but for one little irritation.

"That is a silver fern!" I declared, pointing an accusing hoof at the offending flora. It spread its leafy, argent fronds near Naomi's tent. "It's native to New Zealand and surrounding islands! It doesn't belong here!"

Marcus paused in the midst of unfolding his pop tent opposite of Naomi's. The fire would go between them. We had carefully selected a space that was as open as possible, but the trees were so dense that it had been difficult finding a place where a branch wasn't likely to fall and crush someone.

"It's a plant," he pointed out.

"Yes, and it's wrong!"

"Sweetie," Naomi stepped delicately between me and the fern, casting a wary gaze my way, "we really don't want to attract anything that might come looking to see what's shouting. Besides, is it really that much more unlikely than anything else we've seen since coming here?"

"Just because we're in some magical fairytale land doesn't mean things shouldn't make sense," I protested firmly, my nostrils flaring. Ever since we had stopped running, my breath had been coming in tight, ragged gasps, and my head felt hot and heavy. "It shouldn't resemble any Earth species except that which blew across the barrier!"

Naomi raised her brow. "What if there's other entry points?" It was disgusting. She had no right to be that patient and level-headed when everything was so _wrong_. I hesitated in answering, my scowl deepening. "Daphne, this isn't really about a plant, is it?"

"Of course it's about a plant; it's about a stupid little fern that belongs halfway around the world!" I pawed roughly at the ground as I stared her down. How dare she talk to me like that? Where did she get off telling me what I'm saying is one thing or another?

"Daphne, you're hyperventilating. Just calm down, we can talk about this."

"Don't you patronize me!" I snapped, jolting forward. "We're in a mysterious, magical forest where the laws of reality apparently don't apply! Don't you get how twisted and wrong this whole place is? Being a little stressed is a perfectly normal reaction to cause-and-effect taking the day off!"

"Okay, Daphne. You've been through a lot tonight." A curt note had entered her voice. Taking a tone with me, was she? "I know you're upset, but didn't we talk about this earlier when you went running off through the—"

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" I shouted at her, rising up and stamping my forehooves again and again. "You don't know a damn thing! You've never woken up as the wrong species! You haven't spent your life trying to convince yourself your best friend wasn't real—wondering if you were _insane_! You've never had your sister taken right from under you! Don't you dare tell me to calm down! You're just a spoiled, silly little daddy's girl getting her sick kicks on me being a pony! You don't even seem to care that we're in a freakishly unnatural forest that's probably stuffed to the gills with monsters; it's all a game to you!"

Naomi rocked back, her eyes wide, her mouth falling open. I felt like I was trying to swallow a brick. My… chest? Sides? The bit where a pony's ribs are—was vice-tight, and my breaths were coming in shorter and shorter gasps. My whole body was tense, wound like a spring, my tail lashing back and forth.

"You should be ashamed! You…" I gasped, trying to find my breath again.

Okay, maybe "ashamed" was a bit extreme.

"You don't... you don't appreciate how important this is. How…" How something… Where were the words I needed when they had been coming so fast and hard just a few moments ago?

Dead silence. No one spoke. I faced the both of them down, my eyes blazing. Slowly, so very slowly, my raging heart cooled. My mouth felt dry, and my head began to pound. All that righteous fury dripped out with my adrenaline, leaving my tensed muscles feeling cramped.

I regarded Naomi. The pained look in her eyes. The way her shoulders were slumped. She looked hurt, wounded.

"You should... You shouldn't tell me to calm down!" I rasped at her, my throat dry.

"You shouldn't," I said again, my voice dropping a little.

She got it. No need to… rub it in.

Naomi, and Marcus now, too, regarded me, their gazes weighing heavily. It no longer seemed so clear and simple as it had been earlier. I scraped my hoof against the earth, bringing up little stones in the dirt.

"It's just that… I… I have a lot of _reason_ to be worried."

Like I had reason to yell at Naomi—she'd belittled me, dismissed me.

Hadn't she?

"I-I j-just don't want…" What didn't I want?

"Naomi, please," I wheezed, looking to her, only to see she'd turned away. Her arms were clutched across her chest, and her head was tucked in against her shoulder.

Oh no.

My eyes stung as I tried to comprehend the enormity of my own stupidity. I shrank back, unable to even look at Naomi now. More than that, I wished I could have crawled out of my own skin and _died,_ right there. I didn't want to be on the same planet with someone who had said something that monumentally revolting. It was still a quick jaunt back to Earth. Just leave myself to rot.

Who the hell did I think _I_ was, talking like that?

Who was I, even? Some spoiled, self-obsessed little cretin, crawling along seeking others' approval before I could so much as choose a pair of shoes in the morning?

If only I could have taken it back. If I could have snatched the words from the air and shoved them back into my stupid mouth, I would have. I scrambled forward a step, stumbling over more of my words, "Naomi, wait, I—"

Naomi turned, and I feel silent. She didn't have to say anything. Her eyes had gone flat, her lips were a thin crease, and her features were as still as granite as she looked down upon me. Nothing else existed at that moment, just her disapproval and the sick feeling in my gut.

"Sometimes," her voice was dangerously quiet, "we're very honest with these outbursts. We say things we meant to keep hidden."

I wanted to bury my head in the ground. I wanted to run as far away as I could. I wanted to jump into the fire we didn't have yet. Anything rather than listen to her, each word biting at me. Instead, I stood there, head lowered, bearing it.

"But do you really believe that, Daphne? Do you really think I came out here, stealing from my parents, risking my life—_and_ Hector's—just so I could have a little play time?"

My knees had begun to shake. I shut my eyes tight and trembled along with them. Her hand brushed my mane, but, instead of a blow, I felt it caress my cheek, sliding down to cup my jaw. The relief I felt at that touch was soothing, better than any balm I could have applied.

It put into context how much I was hurting. My outburst and her touch illuminated how much my identity had been compromised. Sleep-deprivation, physical trauma, and remembered pain blended together into a disastrous recipe that had left me irrational and so wound up I was ready to snap at everyone and everything at the slightest provocation. It was no wonder I didn't feel like myself any more.

Could I really say that I _had_ been myself for years yet?

Naomi kneeled in front of me, sliding her hands around my neck. "Do you, Daphne?"

"No." I shook my head frantically. "No, no, no, no. I don't believe it. Naomi, I—"

"Shush. It's okay. Just breathe," she said gently, silencing me with her embrace. Thick red hair fell over me, and I pushed my nose into her awkwardly, nuzzling at her. Would that I had a pair of proper arms to embrace her. Forelimbs would have to do, and I held her tightly.

"It's going to happen again," she murmured softly, her voice familiar and honeyed again. "Probably soon. You're going to have to get through this, Daphne... but I won't let you do it alone if I can help it."

There was a leafy rustle and a quiet tearing noise as Marcus bodily hauled the silver fern out of the ground, chucking it down to the stream bed. It lay in the water, rippling the silvery reflections with black swirls. "Problem solved!" he announced brightly. He shrank back at a look from Naomi, his hands up defensively, and went back to pushing the pegs in for his tent.

"Good riddance," I muttered, trying to laugh, which didn't work very well. My ribs still felt tight and constricted, and my knees had begun to quake again. Sighing, I rubbed at my sore eyes with a forelimb. When I pulled it away, I was surprised to see the coat there was wet and stained.

Naomi and I stood like that for a while. I didn't cry anymore. Neither of us spoke. Her presence, though, her closeness, her almost palpable love, seeped into me and filled me with its quiet, gentle strength.

I pulled away once I felt I could speak clearly again. "Naomi, I—"

"Shh," she whispered, cutting me off, and dabbed at my eyes with a handkerchief. "You're tired, Daphne, and still hurting. Tell you what, I'll forgive you for calling me a spoiled little girl if you can forgive me for calling you a shallow, self-obsessed brat."

I knit my brow, confused. "You didn't call me anything, though."

"Just did! Deal?" She stuck her hand out. She giggled as I rolled my eyes and stuck my hoof into her hand, shaking it. "That is so cute, the way you shake."

That, too, was part of the healing process, I realized. The humor was a signal that things had returned to normal between us. Perhaps more than normal, really. It wasn't a regular, everyday friend who could take that sort of abuse and then turn it around in a way that helped the person who had tried to hurt them.

"Now, why don't you get some sleep?" she suggested.

It took some effort to get a hold of my treacherous body. "I'm not that tired," I lied. Having been up all day and running all night had taken a great deal out of me, but a guilt-ridden conscience wouldn't let me rest just yet. Emotional fatigue was the least of my worries at that point. "Besides, the tents aren't up yet. I'll start a fire," I announced, resolving to be useful at the very least.

There was a meaningful pause.

"Shut up." I cast my head down. "I know. No hands. Realized it the moment I said it," I groused, swishing my tail irritably. It helped me wake up a little bit, at least. "I'll get firewood, I can do that. No one brought any, right?"

"We didn't exactly have time to stock up for the winter," Marcus grumbled. Up until now he had kept pretty silent on his feelings about the new world he had been roped into visiting, but there was a faintly wild look in his eyes. He also stared up at the giant moon a little too frequently for it to be coincidence. Maybe his aggression towards the fern had been more cathartic for him than it had been for me.

"We did the best we could, Marcus," Naomi said evenly. Then she nodded to me. "All right. I don't need to tell you not to stray; you probably know what's out here better than we do. What _did_ Leit Motif say about this place?"

"Not a lot." I scuffed a hoof on the dirt. "She said she had to pass through what she called the Everfree _Forest_ to get to me, and I always thought she meant the state park. Like she was just in the town across the way."

It felt more than a little weird hearing Naomi refer to my friend so casually. It was difficult enough just trying to sort through that tangled mass of emotion that was the knotted memories of my and Leit Motif's time together. Accepting her reality back into my life had given me mixed feelings of elation, relief, and more than a little guilt. Hearing Naomi speak her name in that familiar fashion lit up a peculiar spark of jealousy I didn't understand, as if I didn't want to share her.

"Did she describe the way she took at all? Landmarks, dangers, anything?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I've gone over it a few times in my head already, trying to remember. She did tell some stories, said that everypony—"

"Everypony?" Naomi asked, grinning.

"Shut up, it's how she talked!" I shot back, stamping a hoof. Continuing on, I said, "That all of the ponies avoided it, I meant to say. She said that it isn't natural, but she never mentioned having any problems getting here."

"I suppose it would make sense that a forest containing a magical barrier that leads you to another world would be unnatural to anypony," Naomi mused aloud.

"Anypony...? You did that on purpose!"

"Go fetch firewood, honey," she said airily. "I'll help Marcus finish setting up here."

"I won't go far." I flicked my tail at her as I went. Damn her, she had to go and make me feel better with all that banter. Didn't she know when someone was getting a good panic attack going?

Tension melted away from my bones and limbs, leaving exhaustion in its wake as I pawed with my hooves under hollows and brush for dry wood. Removed from the others, the sounds and smells of the Everfree were undimmed, and I searched to the accompaniment of nature's orchestra. The night air was alive with the cries of insects and birds, and the distant coughs of things unknowable. Great sheets of moss blanketed the earth and the low trunks of trees, and, unlike the cold and temperate Everfree I was familiar with, it was humid enough that I wondered if the Everfree Forest wasn't, in fact, a swamp.

My hysterical reaction to the silver fern earlier was, I quickly discovered, more than a little premature. Even if I had been a better student of botany, naming all of the different fronds and flora I found would have been near impossible. There were hundreds of different species, growing in clusters and lonely clumps, all within a few dozen yards of our chosen campsite.

A mossy cliff face looked out over a shallow valley. There was a croaking noise that carried on for a while—rather reminiscent of a heron—and I squinted down the scarp, trying in vain to spot the bird. Fireflies danced in great profusion in that misty valley, conducted by little blue fires. Far away, the trees gave way to a rocky ravine, and, for just a moment, I thought a pair of shadowy stalks had risen above the rocks there. I tensed, but they were gone a moment later—either moved away or never there to begin with. In my current state, it was hard to tell.

I rubbed my eyes. Definitely far, far too tired.

Lacking suitable limbs, I made do with grabbing a hold of the branches I had kicked together under my mouth and returned to camp. No one had dug a pit yet, so I put my hooves to work. It was fairly easy to dig out a small rut with my front legs, before putting my back pair to work to widen it into a proper pit. My legs pumped powerfully, still strong despite all that exhaustion and fatigue had taken out of me.

Once we had a small, neat little fire going, I flopped down next to Naomi. With the veggie burger I had scarfed down, the trail bars Naomi and Marcus had eaten during the trip, and an uncertain length of time between now and reaching our destination, cooking was a low priority at the moment. Of course, there were other reasons to have a fire going while in dangerous woods at night. We wouldn't need to dry off or boil water just yet, but the fire helped keep the insects away, and, if it came to a dangerous predator, very few things were quite so terrifying to an animal as a burning brand thrust at its face.

That, and having an open campfire made us feel a little more at home than the light of an alien moon.

The forest was doing its best to remind us that we _weren't_ home, however. In the shifting shadows, it seemed as if the trees were recoiling from the flames, their branches held back. With my mind playing such tricks on me, I wondered if it might not be better to curl up and go to sleep. Doing so would have meant going back to being alone with myself, though, and I wasn't quite ready for that yet.

Naomi sighed. "Wish I'd thought to bring some hot chocolate." She was wrapped up in a big blanket, and twitched a corner at me. I scooted closer, letting her drape it around my barrel.

"I'm just glad those things stopped chasing us," Marcus said, pulling his jacket off. "I'm having trouble believing some little horse kid made it all that way without being devoured." I noted—completely disinterestedly, of course—that he had not slacked off in the least since we broke up. He wasn't broadly muscled by any stretch, but there was a certain strong ranginess to him.

He still looked totally disreputable, of course.

"I don't know what path Leit took to get to me. She said it wasn't very far, and we were planning to go together before—well, my parents interfered."

"That's just—" Marcus paused, shaking his head. "I guess they thought they had a good reason, but it's not right to screw with a kid's head."

Now he was trying to ruin my perfectly good image of him.

"And, you know, I suppose this could be worse, all things considered," he added.

"How could it be worse?" I asked icily. Here it came, the snide comment that would ruin what good will he had built up.

"You're actually kinda pretty."

"Well you're—wait, what?" I lifted my head, my eyes narrowed curiously, one corner of my mouth curled up in incomprehension. He'd caught me up short with that comment, and I wondered if there was some barb in that I wasn't seeing. It had been months since he'd been this nice.

"I mean, you seem to have it fairly good, as far as it goes. You don't look like an animal, not really. Sure, it's kinda weird, but it's kinda cute. You even sound like yourself—if I couldn't see you, I could honestly still picture you."

I stared at him for a moment, totally at a loss. My mouth worked for a moment as I tried—futilely—to process this sudden spate of nice behavior. Part of me felt touched, which might have explained my utterly bewildered response.

"Well, I—I still can't stand your fat ugly face! Made only worse by the fact that it's in front of your defective brain," I spat at him.

Marcus immediately choked on his water bottle, coughing and sputtering for a moment. He almost looked taken aback, but that was obviously just a ruse. Maybe that hadn't been the best way to come back at him, but it was hard to believe he meant any of it innocently, or even sincerely. Of course, being as tired as I was may have inhibited my ability to come up with any good insults.

"Oh, and that jacket makes you look like a tool."

"You sure seemed to like it when we were dating," Marcus said. That might have been seen as an attempt to head the fight off before we could really get into it. I knew what it was, though: he was trying to make it seem like I had it much better when I was with him.

"Sure, when I was humoring you for being a ten year-old in a teen's body. A girl would have to be insane to like you."

"And you almost went to the loony bin," Marcus braced his elbows on his knees, "so you must have _loved_ me. Not that anyone needed to tell me that you were crazy."

"I am _not_ crazy," I growled. "Nothing I ever wanted was unreasonable!"

"Oh, sure. Not unreasonable. You practically redefined 'demanding,' Daph."

Thoughts of knocking him into the river fell away before I could even construct a good mental image of it. It was just too exhausting to fight right now. I gathered a breath to retort, but even that felt draining, so I just sighed and laid my head on my legs. "Yeah. Whatever."

My defeated tone served to suck the fun right out of the atmosphere. The night air felt, if anything, even more lonely, with a cold distance creeping in. For a time, no one spoke, and Marcus went to inspecting his rifle. Naomi set the blanket over me and went over to check on Hector, who was pawing restlessly. He had not looked secure ever since the transition into the Equestrian side of the Everfree Forest, and she did her best to soothe him.

"I'll take first watch," Marcus offered. "I don't think we want anything sneaking up on us here."

"Makes sense," I mumbled, snapping my eyes open. I stretched my arms and legs out in all four directions with a great big yawn. Rising, I glanced around. "Naomi, where's the third tent?"

"I didn't bring one," she answered. "Use my tent."

"Won't you be using it?" I asked, suspiciously.

"Daphne, hon, it's a two person tent. I wasn't going to snuggle up with Marcus, and you certainly weren't going to sleep outside."

"Not that I would object," Marcus interjected, cheerfully. Sleaze.

"Oh. Obviously," I muttered. Laying down had apparently been too much for me, and I practically oozed into the tent. Someone could have poured me into a glass and I would have slept right there, taking the shape of my container like any good liquid. "I'll take the third watch. When I get up," I called, slurring heavily.

The inside of the tent was dark, and I was comfortable in my blankets. Like a warm little cave. It swallowed me up, and I faded away into nothingness.

Water closed in.

I couldn't breathe. The water crushed me, pressing in on all sides.

The moon shone down at me, rippling through the surface of the water and refracting off the bubbles that rose up from my struggling form. I raised a hand, trying to swim back up, but the skin and bones shifted even as I tried. Silvery light played off the tip of my hoof, and down I went.

I struggled and surged upward despite my altered limbs, only to feel bonds tighten around me. Straps of white leather were wrapped around my barrel, each tied to something below—a gnarled wand, which cinched the straps tight. Even as what strength I possessed began to waver, I stretched and strained to try and get a hoof around the wand, but all I could manage was to touch it with my hooftips.

The moon's light had formed into a ring above, and I twisted my neck to gaze down. Curved walls encircled me, a cup of water that would soon be my grave. A sword, its steel rusted and its leather-bound hilt torn, was embedded in the side of the cup. I tried to reach that, too, kicking with my legs.

I got my forelimbs around the hilt, but my stupid, useless hooves could only fumble with the blade. It tumbled down, down, down, settling far out of reach.

Darkness crept in around my vision, and my lungs felt like they were about to explode.

Sobbing, suffocated, I let go, all four of my legs drifting up and longing for the light.

My eyes shut. My burning lungs cried for air and I prepared to open my mouth and silence them once and for all.

A howl rippled through the water, and I jolted, startled by the sound that had issued forth from my own mouth in spite of the choking water. It sounded so wrong.

Dreaming. I was dreaming!

Kicking, coughing, I fought off my enclosing blankets. My limbs were no longer heavy with asphyxiation but with slumber. Another howl sent my heart racing, and adrenaline propelled me up and out of the tent, eyes wide and ears swiveling.

Our camp was now much darker, for the moon had fallen beneath the level of the trees on the way to its bed. The dim firelight made wavering, flickering shadows out of us and our tents. Everything had an unreal, spectral air that made my hair stand on end.

The yelping and snapping of the things that had chased us earlier were all around us now. Eyes watched us from the wood, reflecting the firelight back in snatches as they circled. It was impossible to count them, for they were less shapes in the woods and more ideas, nascent on the liminal edge of consciousness but threatening at any moment to spring fully into our attention if we slackened.

Naomi held the small pistol Marcus had brought in one hand, her jaw tight and her eyes wild. Her other hand held tight to Hector's reins, and the big horse was snorting and stamping his hooves threateningly, rolling his eyes and trying to look everywhere at once. Marcus was checking the action on his rifle, making sure he was clear. It seemed as though Marcus, too, had just woken, so the howling had roused him as well.

Feeling utterly useless beside my armed friends, I selected one of the branches of firewood that we had and lifted it in my teeth, setting it against the fire. The dry twigs and leaves still clinging to the branch easily ignited, and I carried it forward to stand beside my friends. I'm sure that I looked stupid, with my unbrushed tail slanted to one side and my hair matted from sleeping. A useless horn and useless hooves rounded out my stupid, useless body.

Glints of teeth and the hungry panting of eager hunters closed in around us. Soft feet padded on the leaves as they circled. My ears swiveled every which way, trying hopelessly to track them.

"They're coming closer," Naomi whimpered. "I think they're coming closer." She twisted in place, trying to look around as much as her horse did. The pistol was held in a very professional grip, as might have been expected with her family being the way it was, but, if she had ever been menaced by a pack of unspeakable predators before, it wasn't showing.

Marcus, too, looked nervous, but he was holding together much better than she was. Even though it appeared as if he had been yanked from a deep sleep himself, with his shirt thrown on inside-out, he was alert and intent upon protecting us. He half-lifted the rifle, trying to spot targets among the shifting shadows. For a moment, I felt like cursing Naomi for putting on a poor showing for our gender, and the thought almost made me laugh.

Maybe I was developing an unhealthy response to my situation. Then again, I was getting pretty close to losing it. The beasts started to bark, baying in low, hungry voices.

"We shou' try t' scahe t'em ohff," I muttered around my branch. "If 'ey get 'old, wehr skewed."

"What?" Marcus demanded of me, looking down briefly.

"She said, 'We should try to scare them off. If they get bold, we're screwed,'" Naomi supplied.

"Okay," Marcus muttered. "Okay," he added, as if the first time wasn't enough. He lifted the rifle butt to his shoulder. "Fire two shots, no more. We'll need it if they rush."

"Fire where?" Naomi asked, squeaking slightly.

A hulking shape presented itself.

"Anywhere!" he growled. "One, two, three!" Quickly, I flattened my ears.

The rifle barked twice, the sound painful from this close. I never heard what happened to the first bullet, but the second hit something hard, off in the darkness. Belatedly, Naomi's pistol rang out its own song, and an unoffending tree took a round nearby. A lupine yelp signalled that the second round had found at least some portion of our assailants. Hector screamed and reared, but Naomi had him well in hand and tugged hard on his reins, holding him still.

Trees erupted as, for probably the first time in its history, the Everfree Forest was violated by gunfire. Birds squawked and fled in panic, barely visible shadows of wings and feathers taking off in all directions. Around us, the creatures melted away. Some splashed across the stream below, some crashed through brush as they dove off the cliff I had seen, while others simply melted away into darkness. As quickly as it all started, all was silent. It was as if someone had gone and switched off the world's volume.

The crack of the fire as some of the twigs collapsed jolted us out of our stupor. Marcus turned to Naomi, giving her an annoyed look as he asked, "Why didn't you fire on three?"

"You never _said_ fire on three. I thought you were going to say 'Go!' or something like that," she protested. She was having her own little panic attack and had put the gun down to stroke Hector's mane. Seeing as how the horse had already settled, it looked rather as if she was trying to comfort herself instead. Oddly, that made me feel better—seeing her freak out somehow blunted the shame I felt in panicking earlier.

Spitting the branch on to the fire, I paused to consider something. "It's almost morning. Why didn't you guys wake me for my shift?"

Naomi ceased her ministrations toward Hector. Marcus looked up from checking his rifle by the light of a tiny flashlight. They both looked to one another.

"Let me guess, you switched off at midnight instead of doing three shifts." Not waiting for confirmation, I sighed and waved a hoof, continuing, "Forget it. I get it, I can't defend myself so all I could have done is screamed and cried anyway."

"No," Marcus said. I started to cut him off, but he got there first. "Daphne, hold on. You can stop right there. You were barely managing to stay on your feet at all last night and it was _already_ late. We didn't switch off at midnight because it _was_ midnight. We only had two shifts and we wanted to give you a chance to sleep."

I shut my mouth quickly. The full moon _had_ been directly overhead. Of course, that could have meant anything on an alien world, but we had been so far relying on that correlation with our world. "Sorry." I said tersely, hanging my head. "Don't tell me to shut up," I added, half-heartedly. So what if he hadn't actually said the words? He had _meant_ it.

"Stop being stupid and I won't have to."

"You little—!"

"If you two start up again I am going to shoot you," Naomi said curtly. "Save it."

I scuffed a hoof. "Fine." Damn Naomi, stopping us before it could get good. "He started it, though."

"Who accused who first, again?" asked Marcus.

Naomi picked her pistol up and clicked the safety off. We wisely decided that there were better things to do at that point.

"What time is it?" I asked. Experimentally, I stretched out my legs and was rewarded with pleasant pops. There was soreness there and a potential for cramping, but that would be something to worry about as we went on.

Naomi lit the screen on her sports watch. "Five-twenty-two. Should be seeing the first slivers of twilight soon, if it's the same as back home."

"Should we try to get some rest?" Marcus asked, keeping the rifle on his legs. Doubtless, he planned on staying up regardless of what we did.

Naomi shook her head. "I don't think so. What if those things come back? We do _not_ want to be here."

Stepping forward, I shook my own head as well, disagreeing. "No. If they come at us while we're moving, they could be on us before we even knew they were there. We still have the fire while we're at camp." I butted my head against Naomi's side and nudged her towards her tent. "You go get an hour or so of sleep. You were up last."

Reluctantly, Naomi let me push her back into the tent, and I returned to sit opposite the fire from Marcus with my haunches on the ground. My poncho and scarf were shed and packed away, given the rising warmth and cloudless sky. I considered making breakfast briefly, but decided to wait a while so Naomi could at least nap for part of the morning.

Of course, I hadn't exactly worked out how I was going to do any cooking in my present state, but I was sure I could figure something out. It couldn't be disastrously difficult to set up Naomi's little field stove—I hoped. Worst case scenario, I could prepare the cold food and granola. The fire rose higher as I pushed a heavy branch—a log, really—into the pit and let it catch.

Awkward silence fell over me and my ex-boyfriend, even as the sounds of night in the Everfree returned. For all that the illusion of security had been stripped away by the menacing of our camp, the building up of the fire had banished the eerie shadows and made the center of the cleared area warm and inviting. Even the nightmare seemed distant and unimportant.

Looking down, I lifted a hoof to consider it. Hard, keratinous, and uncaring, it stared back at me. Perhaps the nightmare wasn't so irrelevant after all. A dream about drowning and fumbling every attempt to save myself because of clumsy, inadequate hooves was about par for the course.

"So," Marcus broke the silence that lay between us, "you look different now. Don't tell me, did you do something with your hair?" Cheesy jerk. Never was as funny as he thought he was.

"I cut it, actually, yes," I answered, not letting him bait me. The last thing we needed was for Naomi to wake up and come murder both of us in a justifiable homicide. I would beg her to kill him first, so I could watch.

Or equi-cide. What does one call a pony murder? Probably a tragedy.

"It is shorter now. I actually kind of liked it long. It looked good on you." Putting his sidearm pistol aside, he began to field strip his rifle. With no hope of replacing our gear barring a trip back to civilization, prudence in care would go a long way towards keeping alive our one advantage over the monsters.

There he went, trying to emotionally manipulate me again by complimenting me. "Funny, I wasn't thinking about you at all when I cut it." Oh well, Naomi would just have to kill us.

"Oh, right, you're a horse, now, too," he replied, his tone flat. "How's that working out for you?"

"Great! It's not like I'm going to be stuck like this or anything."

"That's okay. You'll be the prettiest girl in the petting zoo."

I scowled and looked towards the ground. A brass glint caught my eye, and I pushed some grass aside to find a casing from Naomi's handgun. Experimentally, I tried to pick it up. No dice—it just tapped against the edge of my hoof and stayed right where it was.

"How did it happen again?" he asked after another moment of silence.

"I was wrestling with some ugly guy for a magic wand and it took me right in the chest," I answered, gritting my teeth in concentration as I pressed at the spent casing, trying to will my hoof to pick it up. This only served to bury it into the soft earth and make my hoof dirty.

"Is that horn supposed to be good for anything?" he asked. Actually, it was rather nice having an opportunity to talk to someone normal about all of this. Naomi was definitely curious, but the hungry light in her eyes could be a little off-putting.

"Yeah, it is. It's supposed to let me do magic," I grumbled, giving up on the cartridge. Let it rot there for all time, or be picked up and used as material for a crow's nest for all I cared. "Damned if I know how I'm supposed to do that, though."

"Have you tried anything with it?"

"Yeah, setting you on fire." I tried to keep the tone more joking than spiteful. Maybe just a little spite leaked in; it wouldn't hurt anything.

Marcus shrugged, and began to reassemble his rifle. "I don't feel like I've been set on fire. Maybe a little warm. You probably ought to review your technique."

"Hold still a minute and I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah? Well, so long as you don't try singing, I should be fine. Your voice could kill wildlife at twenty paces." He rose, rifle in hand, going over to the packs. I stuck my tongue out at his back.

I was about to add something curt, but he pulled his shirt off and started searching for another. A turn to see the fresh shirt in the light exposed his bare chest to me, and, somehow, I had lost what I was about to say, my mouth having gone completely dry.

Shaking my head, I snorted noisily. I must have been more tired than I thought. Thankfully, the logistics of a hot breakfast occupied me as I made my way over to the packs myself. Out came the collapsible grill and the pot. Packets of oatmeal, sausages, and other useful goods stayed where they were until I could figure out cooking without hands.

Just as Naomi had surmised, the first edges of twilight were soon staining the horizon, meaning that Equestria matched up with Earth in surprisingly exact ways. The fantastic cover of stars, undimmed by city lights, had not yet surrendered to the dawn. I wished Amelia were here beside me, so she could point out the constellations and brattily assert her astronomical know-how like she always did.

Said wish was accompanied by a heavy heart, and I bit back a pained whimper. With the grill held in my mouth, I roamed back over to the fire and considered how best to approach the problem at hand. Carefully, I unfolded the grill and was relieved to find that it had a high, plastic-coated handle that would allow it to be moved in or out of the fire without risking fingers—or my hairy face. Leaving it there, I went back for the pot.

Briefly, I considered telling Marcus to go fetch water. The thought of sending him on errands greatly appealed to me in general. Maybe he could do it without his shirt on.

All thought was shoved violently out of my brain as I grabbed the pot's handle in my teeth and trotted down to the stream. Dunking it in like a bucket, I let it sink a bit before pulling it up with only mild strain. It was strange how used I was getting to carrying things like that. The branches had been rough, but they didn't bother my mouth as much as they would have as a human, and my neck was more than up to the task of carrying a heavy pail of water.

While Marcus kept watch, I gripped the grill with my teeth and put it closer to the fire, then left the pot on top to boil and kill off any alien bacteria. By the time the pot was bubbling I had gotten three bowls on the grass and a packet of oatmeal ready. Very, very carefully, I managed to open the packet and upended it over the pot with my teeth. The now-murky water stopped boiling at once, and I grabbed a long wooden spoon and started to stir.

"That's actually kind of impressive," Marcus said. "I'd say I'm shocked that you didn't manage to seriously burn yourself, but that you did it at all is fairly incredible."

"Could have lent a hand, you know," I mumbled around the spoon. Of course, I had very deliberately not asked him for help and would have been grievously offended had he done so, but that was a detail he didn't need to know.

Instead of retorting, he went and fetched some of the sausages, taking a long fork to put them on the grill beside the pot. They sizzled immediately, and he had to raise them manually to keep them from burning, turning them over each in turn.

A monster could have attacked us right then, and I don't think we would have cared.

Naomi, surrounded in a halo of red hair that could have been its own sunrise, crawled out of her tent with a wondering expression. "Wow. That smells fantastic. I know that's hunger talking for the most part, but just wow."

As dawn's first light chased the stars away one-by-one, we prepared our first breakfast on an alien world. Naomi had brought along snack-sized juice boxes and set them beside the bowls, along with some trail mix and a small bag of apples. Hector got one of them, the greedy beast, before he contented himself with the nearly virgin grazing. Great clumps of long grass, thick with clover, meant that we wouldn't need to use up any of the feed Naomi had brought yet.

Of course, it probably wouldn't be hard to find horse feed where we were going.

"You know, you could join him," Marcus said, prodding my side, which made me jump slightly. "Probably save us a lot of trail food."

I glowered at him, and carefully moved the grill back from the fire so as to take the heat off the oatmeal. Looking out at the little clearing, it wasn't hard to remember a dawn long ago when that very same question had come up.

Conjuring the scene up, I could see a dark-coated unicorn filly sitting beside a makeshift tent that was more bedsheet than anything. She watched a little blond girl beating an egg with a fork in a small bowl, licking her lips hungrily.

"Be patient," little Daphne told her friend, as Leit Motif tried to push her nose in.

"You burned them last time," the filly pointed out. "Nearly set the whole forest on fire."

"I'm going to get it right this time, and we got the fire out!" Daphne groused, elbowing the other girl back. "Besides, can't you just munch on some grass if you're hungry?"

Leit narrowed her eyes, snorting. "Oh, yeah? Just graze anywhere, huh?"

"Yeah," young Daphne said, "we're surrounded in the stuff. Don't ponies eat grass?"

"Yeah, sure, on _sandwiches_, and it's grass we've grown, not picked up off the ground."

"Have you ever tried it?"

There was a pause. Daphne then boldly picked some grass off the ground and bit into a handful. Leit Motif dug in, too, pulling some up with her teeth. Both started to chew thoughtfully. Daphne's face slowly started to pale, while Leit's soured.

"Thif taftes awful," Daphne whined through grassy mush.

"Yuff," Leit agreed.

"Daphne?" Naomi called, interrupting my reverie. "Do you want cinnamon and sugar in yours?"

Snapping out of my recollections, I turned to find the bowls already spooned out. She had even gone so far as to cut my apple into slices and stick a straw into my juice box. Both she and Marcus were already digging into their sausages. All around us, birds were greeting the dawn with glorious song, while the penetrating rays of light set the nearby stream to sparkling. The richest green grass I had ever seen warred with clusters of violet and blue flowers, while the beds of red and golden leaves from those trees which had shed their burdens glowed with autumnal radiance.

"Yeah…" I was momentarily transfixed by my first true glimpse of this new world. "Yeah, I would, thanks."

Settling down, I tucked my legs up against my body and lowered my head down. In full view of the others, I very nearly asked Naomi to help take my bowl out of sight so that they wouldn't see me reduced to stuffing my face directly into my food. That was a mildly irrational thought—after all, Naomi had seen that last night, and it wasn't like Marcus couldn't see for himself that I was practically an invalid. Still, knowing that they knew, and seeing their faces as I ate…

Stalwartly, I dug in anyway. Let them stare if they liked. At the very least, I took the time to carefully slurp up the hot oatmeal rather than shoving my face into the bowl. Naomi's family only stocked steel-cut Irish oats and, while they weren't quite as good as when cooked in a crock pot overnight like they did at her place, they were still delicious. The apple slices were crisp and crunched pleasantly between my broad teeth, adding a satisfyingly fruity bite.

It took me longer than either of them to finish, so they set about packing up. By the time I was done, I felt replenished. With most of a night's sleep and a full belly, it was almost as if I were whole again. That didn't stop me from licking up every last speck of oatmeal, though, closing both of my forelegs around the bowl to hold it steady. Taking the bowl in my teeth, I ran it through the stream water before returning it to Naomi's packs, then glanced around for more chores.

With little else to do to help them pack up, I kicked sand over the fire pit and tamped it down with a hoof. "Well, at least we won't be in trouble with park authorities, whoever or _what_ever they may be."

"Oh, can you imagine how cute a pony in a ranger hat would be?" Naomi said as she cinched the straps of Hector's saddlebags. "Or even better, a Canadian Mountie uniform." She patted the big Arabian's flanks, cooing to him softly. "It's all right, dear. Even though you can't talk, I still love you."

Watching her perform dexterous tasks with her hands was giving me a distinct sense of inadequacy again. Like everything else around here, it just served as a reminder of the terrible changes that had been inflicted upon me. Walking around on all fours was humiliating enough without having lost the ability to perform basic tasks. If I'd _had_ shoes I couldn't have tied them, and the fact that I didn't need them was just one more sign.

Sitting around and sighing wouldn't accomplish anything, however.

Actually, thinking about how strange my body was reminded me that I hadn't really had an opportunity to examine myself. There had certainly been points during the night where I had taken stock, but it had been through a haze of exhaustion and hunger.

The creek afforded me a little distance from the others, so I moved behind some brush along the shore line that was within range of their voices, but would obscure me enough to afford a modicum of privacy. Sitting down, I went about examining myself properly. My forelegs were the natural place to start. Though strong and stocky, they had a peculiar flexibility about them, the joints bending quite easily and offering what seemed to be a full range of motion. Reaching up, I could touch the top of my head and scratch my own back.

This was all done with one forehoof braced against the ground, but it didn't seem as if that was as necessary as I had thought. I tried to sit upright, craning back little by little as I lifted my other hoof. At first, my spine protested, but the proper angle wasn't hard to find, with a little experimentation. Gesturing with both hooves to test my balance, I grinned and even folded my arms. It was fun to imagine the look on someone's face if they came and saw me like this—perhaps a good trick to play on Marcus later.

Just as I was getting cocky, though, I craned a little _too_ far and flopped on my back, hooves splaying in the air. I turned over with a grumble and shook grass and leaves from my coat. I'd already examined my coat, of course—cream hair, very unlike the coats of horses I knew from the farm and definitely unlike Leit Motif's own navy blue. My tail smarted from where I had landed on it, and I reached back to massage the dock.

A tail, now, was probably one of the strangest parts about this experience, aside from the hooves. Humans hadn't had tails for ages, barring some congenital abnormalities, and certainly never one like this. It was still mostly clean from the washing Naomi had given it, a sandy blond that was the same color my hair had been before. Getting used to it had been almost automatic after the first few steps—it seemed to have a mind of its own, tilting this way and that to help me keep balance.

Remembering once having turned a light on with it, I found that it could be swished back and forth with a little concentration. It could be flipped up or down, swung in a circle, or even tilted at odd angles. Now _that_ was something Hector might envy.

"Daphne," Marcus called, making me jolt, "are you done playing with yourself back there or could you answer a few questions?"

"Go to hell." I swiveled my ears in his direction and rose up on my hind legs to look. He was busy cleaning his rifle again, while Naomi was making a hand-drawn map. "What do you want to know?"

"We fought off hell-only-knows-what last night. Do you have any idea what else might be lurking around the bend to gobble us up?"

"Uh." A dim memory of seeing tall, dark shapes in the distance last night came to mind. Perhaps that _hadn't_ been a sleep-addled hallucination. "Yes and no. Oh, hey, I can stand on two hooves like this for a whi—eep!" My balance gave out and dropped me back to the forest floor.

"Well? Which is it?"

Spitting up grass, I walked over to join them. "Leit _did_ tell me a little bit about the forest. She said that most ponies were afraid to go into it, and that all sorts of strange things would come out of it."

"That stands to reason," Naomi said, not looking up from her work. "Like the plant from New Zealand we found, there may be other places this forest opens up to. It bodes interesting questions for species migration."

Marcus knit his brow. "Am I the only one _not_ noticing that if that were true, we'd have monsters coming out in Massachusetts all the damned time?"

"As I said before," said Naomi with a sigh, "there _have_ been a lot of strange sightings going on for centuries near the park. Don't ask me why no one's ever caught a monster, though. Planetary travel is a new one on me."

"Perhaps the ponies know more than we do?" I glanced up at my horn. "Unicorns do magic, and if that isn't magic, I don't know what is."

"You probably don't." Pedantry was one of Naomi's favorite pastimes. "Keep in mind, if you have no idea of what the capabilities of magic are, it's pointless to speculate about what it may or may not do."

I poked her with a hoof, grumbling. "Would it _kill_ you to pick a stable identity? One minute you're a girly-girl, the next you're a veterinarian, and now you're a philosopher. Most people pick one and stick with it."

She smiled beatifically. "Simple categories never capture the whole essence of a person, I say to the unicorn who was an airhead."

"Hey!"

Marcus snapped his gun together. "So, you were saying about monsters?"

"Oh, right. Well, she thought I was ridiculously brave for coming out into my neck of the woods all the time. She asked me if I'd ever seen, uh..." Concentrating, I stared at a nearby patch of grass, reaching back into memory.

He gave me a steady look. "You're doing that thing again."

"What?"

"Ignoring me and spacing out."

"I'm _not_ ignoring you," I said, distracted. "Nor spacing out, for that matter."

"Sure," he said in a tone that suggested he rather didn't agree. "How many times did you blow me off like that, exactly? At least once a day?"

Growling, I rose to respond, but Naomi put a hand on the back of my neck and stilled me. I settled back down on my belly, snorting in a particularly horse-like fashion. "It's not... look, when I was a kid, I read a book about memory techniques. There was a section about what are called memory palaces; they're used to visualize information so you can remember it better later on."

"The hell kind of childhood did you have, exactly?" He shook his head. "Running off with unicorns and reading dry textbooks."

"Oh, shut up." Settling back to find my thoughts again after the distraction was difficult. Strictly speaking, I had never had much need for an actual mental space to categorize things.

Normally, memories and imaginary images leap forward without much prompting.

For whatever reason, it always helped—and still does help—to think of water. I pictured an island, somewhere subtropical, or maybe Mediterranean, with a calm sea contrasted against a raging waterfall that cascaded down from high cliffs. The river atop those cliffs came from a spring, a fountain lined in marble and protected by columns. Chambers had been cut into the living rock, and from one emerged the thread of the memory I sought.

An image was conjured as I dove into the cave, and little Leit Motif appeared on the grass. She was looking at someone from the eye level of a sitting child. This was an early memory, from when they were still figuring each other out. It was easy to tell—back then, Leit had been a much more timid creature. She seemed to be hunched in on herself in a manner so habitual even she didn't notice it, her green eyes wary. That brought a bit of a frown.

It had never really occurred before, but had she been running from something when she first found me? She'd had food with her, and it had to have been a pretty long way to walk.

"Daph?" Naomi asked, prodding my side.

"Oh, sorry." I shook off the memory and turned back to Naomi. "She said there were timberwolves out here, as well as bears, karkinos, cerastes, lindworms, carbuncles—"

"Stop," Marcus said, lifting his hand. "I don't even know what most of those are and you've barely started."

"Well—" Naomi began.

"No. I take it back. I'd rather not find out until I have to shoot it in the face. The last thing I want is to be paranoid about what _might_ get me."

"So," I said, "you'd rather leave it to your own imagination about what horrible thing is going to leap out and eat you?"

"My imagination is nice and sedate. I'll stick with bears and wolves, thank you."

"Have it your way," I said with a shrug of my shoulders—a motion that felt more awkward as a pony than I thought it would. "Say, are we about ready to go?"

"Yup!" Naomi said, rising as she folded up her new map. Hector, who had been waiting, stamped a hoof and chuffed as she slid up onto his back. "I was just about to ride around a bit and see if I can't find a good path."

"Don't go too far," Marcus said, slinging his backpack and rifle on.

Standing, I stared off into the distance. Birds were singing, and the wind rustled through the trees. In just a little bit I would be taking my first real steps into a new world. Even with the dire conditions surrounding my entrance here, there was still just a breath of excitement. A whole new horizon waited, just over the hill.

The wild wood that was the Everfree Forest was not lightly tread by ponies—nor by men.

Where Everfree State Park had been sane and reasonably safe but for the occasional bear and other hazards, the version near Ponyville was an altogether different beast. Even in late autumn, the air here was warmer than in Massachusetts. It was also far wetter. Marshy swamps made travel circuitous and difficult. The land rose and fell at its own whims, and we had to detour several times just to get around a fall that looked too dangerous to attempt.

Where moonlight had lent an ethereal beauty to our travels and made the darkness a terrifying unknown, dawn had brought a fresh new objectivity to the forest. A fog that had risen just after twilight still clung stubbornly to the low areas in a cloying mist, but the searching rays of sunlight revealed much. Patches of brambles warred for space with shrubs and ferns among the trees. Birds, many of them exotic, flitted from place to place, completely unafraid of us.

Attempting to mentally catalogue all the species in sight took up the first hour of the trip, at least. After spotting an honest-to-goodness green-billed toucan sharing a branch with an Egyptian vulture, though, my brain underwent a hard reset. There would be plenty of time to go birding when Amelia was safe.

Instead, I opted to fight with Marcus. He may have started it this time, actually, but it was hard to tell who had begun what once we started bickering. Being the generous and gracious girl—or mare—that I was, I chose to believe he was responsible.

"I really don't see where you get off saying that _my_ relatives are crazy. You got along fine with Naomi's and they're at least ten times crazier." Marcus carefully strode over a green, moss-covered puddle. He was in the rear of our little party.

"So you admit that yours are at least a tenth as crazy as hers." I glanced up at the sky and frowned at a potentially ominous cloud front. The last thing we needed was a storm.

"I already told you, that incident with the molasses tank was _not_ their fault." His face darkened. "And lay off my family. They're quirky, sure, but they at least _care_ what happens to people."

"And just what's _that _supposed to mean, you—"

"Guys," Naomi interrupted from the front. "I know you two want to have it out, but please try and keep an eye on the forest."

"He started it."

"_She_ started—" The sentence went unfinished. Marcus had stepped a little too close to the edge of the short cliff we had been following, and the loose earth there gave way, looking to take him with it. I turned at the sound, and managed to leap back and bite the front of his jacket before he tumbled into the ravine below. My own strength surprised me again as I reared back. Instead of merely hauling him to stable ground, I yanked him nearly on top of me.

We landed in a pile, him sprawled over me and barely catching the ground with his hands. My hooves were up, tucked close to my body, as our faces nearly touched, eyes staring wide into each other.

"Heh," he said, after a moment's silence. "Thanks."

"Abluh," I mumbled, incoherent.

"I should get up."

"Habluh."

Marcus rolled off, while I remained stunned on the ground for a moment. My increased bulk had brought us uncomfortably close to kissing. Even the _thought_ of actually doing so as a pony was mildly revolting—especially with Marcus. For just a moment, though, I had felt like my old self there. Just a girl with a boy.

Naomi poked me with a long stick she'd picked up off the ground. I twitched.

It was ridiculous, of course.

"Daph." She leaned over me, hair draping across one side of her face.

There was no reason for it. All we had done since seeing each other was argue and fight.

"Daphne, time to get up."

"Huh?" I asked, staring up at her. The cool wind pushing ahead of the storm tossed loose autumn leaves through the air around her.

Naomi giggled. "Has your brain reset yet?"

I scowled at her and turned over, standing back up. With a disdainful flick of my tail, I trotted ahead, checking out the path, if it could be called that.

Travel through the Everfree was not as straightforward as I might have hoped. I was fairly sure that Ponyville lay to the west, but traveling as the crow flies had only gotten us into trouble. We had wasted most of the day circumventing a fast-flowing river until it could be safely forded. Now we found ourselves staring at a rock wall that towered no shorter than ten feet, an escarpment that ran north to southwest and cut off any direct passage further west. This, with the sun already partway down. Leit Motif _must_ have known some other way, or she was the most determined little filly who had ever lived to come through all this just to see me.

At the very least, no more monsters had presented themselves—yet. Maybe as a little girl I would have been excited to see monsters, no matter how dangerous they were, or maybe if it hadn't of been for the danger Amelia was in, but now…

Responsibility is almost as good at killing dreams as my parents, it seemed.

"Come on," I called. "I think we should head south. The forest's edge can't be _that_ much further."

The best laid plans oft go astray. In this particular instance, the plan that involved getting to Ponyville in a reasonable timeframe had been sidelined by the reality of Everfree geography and our utter lack of experience at navigating it. The sun rose and set in the proper places, certainly, and the full moon followed its opposite course in the expected manner that night. It was little help when the straight line we had taken crossed the path of so many natural obstacles, from the river to the escarpment, which continued the next day until we hit another river. That one fed into a ravine that forced us to backtrack for several hours before we found a way through.

Without anything like a GPS or range finder it was impossible to tell for sure, but Naomi comfortably reckoned that we had traveled no more than five miles due west. If we could have found a clear view of the eastern horizon, we could have looked upon the area of our first night's encampment with the naked eye and even made some details out with Naomi's binoculars.

My watch—which lay now in my pack, staring up at me as I dug through it for a candy bar—had stopped at eight-thirty-four, fairly close to the exact moment of my transformation. It had been well over twenty-four hours since my transformation, and the possibility of catching up to those creatures who had taken Amelia was dwindling. If there was to be any further hope of rescuing her, it lay with the race of creatures Leit Motif belonged to.

The duration of our trip was reason enough to feel depressed. My parents would have called Naomi's sometime yesterday, or her parents them, and they would have realized that none of their girls were home. Marcus' family invested a great deal more independence in him, but they, too, would find it strange when he didn't check in by morning at the very least. Someone would probably find his bike soon, no matter how well it was hidden. Then Naomi's parents and Marcus' uncles would notice the firearms, ammunition, and supplies missing. In a few hours, Everfree State Park would be lit up with search teams.

They would find my discarded clothing and smashed cell phone pretty quickly, since they weren't all that far from Naomi's place. It would be the first and worst sign.

School would have started by now. I sighed, and pictured it in my mind, though I didn't distract myself by projecting it onto the environment as I often did with my other daydreams. They would be putting up Halloween decorations now, a couple weeks beforehand. In another few days, parties would be formed and invitations sent about by word of mouth. They were always great parties, too.

After a few more days, there would probably be an announcement. There would be memorials some time after that.

Gloomy and perhaps a little depressed at these thoughts, I wondered if Marcus would be up for another fight. That would cheer me up. Sadly, it seemed he was busy taking up the rear guard.

Maybe I would let Naomi have her way and brush my mane, but that would have to wait until we stopped for a bit. My hooves were—after nearly two days of walking and running—exceptionally sore, and a rest would be appreciated, but determination drove me forward.

Ahead of us lay two different possibilities. In one direction was a rocky wash, which must have been a dry streambed, and in another lay a meadow filled with rich blue bell flowers. Both were heading west, which was the way I figured we had to go.

I took a step towards the meadow. "Let's go this way, it looks easier."

"Hold on," Naomi called over to me. She turned her attention to Hector. The big horse was balking, looking around wildly.

"What is it, boy?" Marcus asked. "Did Timmy fall down the well?"

Droplets of rain misted through the tree cover above. It looked like the front was going to break over us after all.

I groaned, trying to stay under the tree cover while we waited for Naomi to calm her mount. The last thing I wanted was to get soaked with all of _my_ hair. At least this time I wasn't liable to go into hypothermia. Before I could really start feeling sorry for myself, though, Marcus pulled out my poncho from the packs.

"When did you find time to _buy_ all of this crap, Naomi?" He stepped over to me.

"That I took from Daphne's house, actually." She grunted, tugging on Hector's reins as the horse started to jump a bit, firmly admonishing him. "Honey, _stop it_." With a sharp tug, she pulled his head around to her own, looking him right in the eye. Hector snorted once, and pawed at the ground in a manner that was almost sheepish. "What's got you so unsettled, boy?" She gave Hector a cross look, but unless he had become an Equestrian and gained a couple more pounds of brain matter, it was unlikely he'd respond. It wasn't the first time he had gotten antsy with nothing to show for it, but Naomi still looked around to see if anything might have spooked him.

"Thanks," I told Marcus. "I had forgotten about that." Displaying once again the surprising agility of an Equestrian pony, I craned up on my hind legs and let Marcus help stuff me into the rain coat. It fell across my back, not quite covering my hind legs down to the ankle, but easily keeping most of the rain off. My forelegs stuck out of the sleeves, and I must have looked absolutely ridiculous.

"You look _absolutely_ adorable," Naomi gushed. "Now pull the hoodie up so your little mane stays dry. Hee!"

"You're disgusting," I muttered, doing just that. I was going to murder her one of these days.

Even as we readied to go, though, Hector started whickering in fright again. This time, _I_ noticed something as well. My ears twitched, searching around. There was an odd sound, a slimy rustling in the leaves. It seemed to be coming from all around us.

"Guys, what is—_Holy cats!_" I screamed, as a vine snapped up at me from the leaf-strewn earth. The moment's warning the sound had given me was barely enough for me to leap back. The forest around our feet was coming _alive_.

Two muddy vines whipped around one of Marcus' legs, and he was nearly dragged down. Squirming and thrashing, roots and ropey tendrils were lashing for anything they could hold. Hector stomped furiously, screaming and crushing roots to pulp, while Marc tried to pull himself free.

I leapt, landing hard on the vines holding him and crushing them under my own hooves. They spasmed and released, but more were rising up, and I soon found my own legs held. Crying out, I tried to struggle free, but more and more latched on, and their combined strength exceeded my own.

Marcus was there then, cutting with a heavy survival knife, and together we worked free. Naomi leapt expertly onto Hector's back and charged by, heading for the wash, which was free of plants of any sort, and we raced after her.

My hooves and Marcus' knife gave us purchase. We skidded into the now-muddy river bed, hurrying after Naomi, who was ducking to avoid the grabbing arms of the trees that lay on either embankment. Some terrible, verdant laughter chased after us, a chattering of wood and vegetation, and I dared not look back as we ran.

Just as all hope seemed to be lost, just as it seemed we would have no choice but to cower against the onslaught of animated plant life, we broke free. Not only of the suddenly hostile vegetation, but of the forest and even the weather, as well. One moment, we were running under a hail of whipping branches. The next we were clear, running out over the grass of a rich, green plain under direct sunlight.

Stunned, I slowed and stopped. Looking back, I could see that the wash had led us right out of the forest and that the rain stopped mere yards from where I was standing. The wind gusted it against my face occasionally, but it was like someone had gone and drawn a curtain across the field.

All three of us stared around, poleaxed. Fresh air carried by a gentle breeze caressed us, and I exhaled, reluctantly. Tension that had built up in the night and the morning's chase ebbed out, leaving only a few hard knots—those remnants would probably take weeks of relaxation to smoothe out.

Naomi and Hector ranged out ahead, the horse and rider exulting in the land, as Marcus and I caught our breath. It was a far cry from the claustrophobic enclosures of the Everfree—a land of rolling, grassy hills, dotted with trees and run through with clear, sparkling rivers, all framed by gentle, purple mountains. There was no sign of Ponyville, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that we were near.

It just reminded me so much of Leit Motif. Something of sunshine and gentle innocence.

Whatever had been after us in the Everfree didn't seem able to exert influence over where we were now. The branches of the nearby trees stretched out to us, but their ardor cooled, and they stilled. At least it hadn't been a dragon or something more tangible. Somehow, I didn't think a mere biome change would have stopped one of those.

I trotted after Naomi, shuddering at the thought, and was rewarded with the warmth and freedom of the sunlit hills. A trot turned into a canter, then into a gallop, the wind running through my mane. I couldn't help myself any more—I shed my raincoat, tossing it at Marcus, before giggling like a child and rearing with all hooves flailing. I _ran_.

I'd run a few times as a pony, but never in broad daylight, and never for the sheer joy of it. Soft earth vanished under my hooves and my mane and tail blew in the breeze behind me. I ran up hills and across grassy fields. I sharpened my hooves on lone boulders and ran through clear puddles. I chased swarms of butterflies and laughed as they tickled my coat.

I had never felt so good just being _me_.

Surmounting a rise, I caught my first glimpse of pony civilization, and I knew that I had, at last, truly come into Leit Motif's world. A slow river eased its way across the countryside below the cliff. Beyond that, orchards of apple trees coated the land. They radiated out in waves, a fertile explosion of cultivation that centered on a barn and household that looked tiny in the distance.

Ponies running a farm. That was just weird to think about.

Turning, I hurried to gather the others, taking the time to leap a fallen log just because it was _there_.

Marcus was sitting on a rock, watching the river go by with an unreadable expression on his face. He had his jacket off against the warmth of the day and was leaning back. I slowed, and then began to creep up on him. With my body low in the tall grass, I stalked him, my tail flicking in eager excitement. Lifting my back, I set my rear legs and leapt.

He cried out in shock as I swept him from the rock and bore him down onto the grass. We rolled together for a time before I landed on top of him, my forelegs draped over him. The look on his face made me burst out laughing. After a moment, he started laughing, too. He rolled and pushed me off, and then pounced while I was on my back. His hands quickly found my sides.

"No, wait!" I cried out, and squealed as he scratched my sensitive sides. "S-stop!"

He grinned villainously. "Don't think I forgot that you were still ticklish."

"I'll k-kill you!" I laughed, flailing my hooves in a futile attempt to stop him.

"Should have thought of that before you decided to pounce me!"

My squeals drew Naomi, who grinned as she saw us down there. "You decided to play 'tickle the pony' and didn't invite me? I am _deeply_ offended." Hector could be seen near the top of the hill, rolling in the grass with abandon. "And, as I recall, didn't you two break up?"

Marcus and I paused. Instantly, we darted several yards away from one another. Marcus picked up his jacket, busying himself with it, while I smoothed my sides and mane as best as I could. "I was just... you know, after the Everfree..." I searched for words without much success.

"Just needed to relax a bit," Marcus explained.

"So I see." Naomi crossed her arms, her grin growing wider.

"I found Ponyville!" I pointed a hoof the way I had come. "Or at least, part of it. There's a farm and an orchard over the hill that way."

A hungry light came on in Naomi's eyes, and she snapped her head around. Her fingers twitched, but she smoothed her hair to occupy them. "We should... scout ahead," she said at last.

"That means me." I took a few steps forward. "Let's go around the farm, actually. They're not likely to know where Leit is—well, maybe, but she never mentioned living on a farm, just in town."

"All right." Naomi sounded anxious. Eager, even. "Come on, we'll find a good place to hide."

After collecting Hector, Naomi met Marcus and I at the ridge, and we started down to circle around the farm and head for Ponyville. The urge to break into a gallop and race all the way there built up inside of me, but I tried to restrain myself.

In a very short while, I was going to discover the fate of my old friend.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

I'm really glad we've gotten to this point. Just over the hill is Ponyville, a place Daphne has dreamed about since her earliest childhood. In recent years, she has come to believe she will never see it, that it was just a beautiful figment of her imagination.

Now it is here. It has lain waiting for her for eight years, and someone – somepony – there has been waiting for her in it.

I'd like to thank Morning Angles for busting his rear in getting these chapters ready for publication. We couldn't be here today without him.

Stay tuned next time to see where Amelia has gone. After that... well, you'll see.

Check the original out on FimFiction here: story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


	6. Chapter 6 - The Stage

Chapter 6: The Stage

"**...he had learned to hoard little injustices, wishing they might merge and leave him with one significant wound, for which he could guiltlessly martyr himself forever." John Irving**

**Amelia**

I'm not sure what I expected. If I had been expecting a room full of guards, a room full of actors, or a room at all, I was disappointed. If I had been expecting any of what I saw to make sense, I was disappointed.

Stairs were quickly becoming my mortal enemy. Even the little half-step down through the doorway sent me into a tumble, head over hooves, spinning and rolling for a while. I came to rest on my back, splayed out on top of rickety wooden slats, just a short way from the door. What lay above was my first true glimpse of the world I had been spirited away to.

There was no open sky above me. At least, not as far as I could tell. I thought I could see a ceiling up through the darkness, but it was lost in shadow. Most of the light poured out from the way I had come. Scaffolding crawled up a patched-together wall in such a haphazard fashion that it was hard to tell which was holding the other up. Flat panels, each painted to look like segments of sky or fluffy clouds, hung over the wall from hooks attached to long cranes. They moved, slowly, even as I watched, the cranes rotating on gears. Above it all, a huge, yellow light cranked along a massive apparatus that arched from one end of the set to the other.

Among those clouds, immobile, was Canterlot. From that angle, it became very clear indeed that it had simply been painted and left in place.

_Remember, _Twilight Sparkle had told me,_ that misdirection is the first and most important part of any illusionist's art. When you trick the audience into thinking they see more than they really do, they end up seeing exactly what you want them to._

One lesson out of dozens that seemed extremely relevant at the moment.

If I had been expecting to be impressed, well, I wasn't disappointed. The backstage of Ponyville—or, more aptly, Phonyville—was vast, much of it lost in shadow. Even so, I could still make out crazed assemblages of ramps, pulleys, boards, and belts. Cans of paint, and crates overflowing with costumes and props, lay in heaps around me, teetering dangerously. Everywhere was the sound of creaking and groaning and hissing machinery.

Really, had the whole thing not been some giant venus fly trap set just for me, it would have been one of the coolest things _ever_. As it was, it was only sort of cool. Like a really awesome toy set that had a habit of slamming on your fingers whenever you tried to play with it.

The sound of a springing pony echoing out from the still-open door reminded me that complacency was in short supply. I had been lucky enough to avoid running right into Fetter or some sort of elite squad of burly foal-catchers—or at least foal-catchers who were burly.

I scrambled back to all four of my stubby legs and bolted across the platform. A long table laid with pastries and pots of cold coffee stood unattended by a row of six mirrors, five of which were decorated in various ways. One was hung with balloons, another with a propped open book, a third had a sequined cape draped over its chair, a fourth a garland of flowers, and the fifth had what looked to be a spare hat for Applejack cocked over a hook. The sixth was bare and empty.

A long, narrow board presented itself as I dove between the dressing stands, leading out to the scaffolds across open air. I hesitated. Somewhere behind me, out of sight, four hooves thudded on wood all at once.

Sucking in my breath, I put a foot out and, carefully, started to walk across. Just one hoof in front of the other, that would do it. I didn't think about long, dangerous falls from extremely high places into who-only-knew-what. I absolutely did not think about going splat at the bottom of whatever alligator-infested, spike-encrusted, fire ant hive rested below.

Actually, it would be pretty neat to see that sort of place, so long as it didn't involve _crashing into it at terminal velocity_.

"Amy-pants, I'm coming to get you!" Pinkie Pie called playfully. Right, it was a bad time to get distracted. "I know you're here, silly filly!"

Halfway across, the board began to sag, and I stifled a whimper. My hooves slid across the plank, inch by inch. Paint cans smacked together and racks of clothing were shuffled aside by my pursuer. Her excited giggling drove me on.

The opposite side came within reach, eventually. I stepped off my little bridge, allowing myself a sigh of relief once all four hooves were on solid ground again. Somehow, that shaky board had managed to hold my weight, in spite of its protests. The scaffolding ahead was nearly as narrow, consisting largely of steel tubing nailed into the back of the Phoneyville stage and creaky wooden boards lain between those to form a sort of walkway. There were ladders here in there, dimly visible in the dark, as well as folded bundles of cloth and coils of rope. I prepared to saunter forward—

"Wait, Amelia, _no!_" Pinkie Pie cried out, stretching out her hoof from between the dressing stands. She'd found me at last. In a panic, I leapt fully onto the boards, further away from her.

The snap of the slat under my hooves came as too late a warning—later even than Pinkie's—and I dropped like a stone. Screaming, I plowed through the layer beneath me, and then the one after that. Each one snapped under my weight and momentum like dried twigs, and I flailed uselessly for anything to hold on to. It seemed as if I might plummet into oblivion, but one of the broken planks beneath me caught on something hard at an angle and, this time, held when I landed on it. Even with the semi-elastic give, it still knocked the wind out of me and rattled all of my teeth. Before I could recover, though, both it and I slipped off. Flashes of carved stone jumped out of me as I careened down unknowable depths on my makeshift surfboard.

When my breathe returned, it seemed that I had finally met the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead of dying, however, a great glass window rose up to meet me. Its stained decorations were a terrifying blur, and I lifted my forelegs to cover my face at the imminent prospect of being vivisected by pretty colored glass. Instead of hitting it, however, my sled dropped suddenly, and I plummeted again, banging and skidding off worn stone before sliding to a stop with an unexpected splash.

It was impossible to tell how far I had fallen. The whole trip had not taken no more than a few seconds, even if the terror made it feel longer, and I was so dizzy I couldn't tell how much of it had been down, around, or even up. Bruised and battered, I crawled away from the crash site, flopping through shallow water. I probably should have been surprised that nothing was broken, but my jaw dropped as I took in my new surroundings.

All around me rose the walls of a massive cavern, carved out of natural stone and worn smooth. A stream ran through it, cascading down a huge throne near the back, which had been carved from the same hard granite. The throne had no top, instead forming a pillar that supported the ceiling beside a crevice where the water poured from in a steady, clear flow. A great staff of ash wood—almost a tree trunk in itself—leaned against one arm.

Sections had been carved out and stained glass windows marched down the hall beneath the vaulted ceiling, each depicting a strange person and a number of wooden sticks. Statues of similarly misshapen people stood in rows under them, though many bases were missing their occupants and other statues looked to have been damaged or left incomplete, with their subjects rising out of unworked stone.

A bang of iron on stone rang out from somewhere behind me, and I jumped, all of my considerable hair standing on end. My erstwhile sled was quickly kicked into the water before I searched about for somewhere to hide, desperation making me prance in place. Footsteps thudded with steady purpose as I dove past a pair of unfinished-looking statues and squeezed past a crack in the wall behind them that looked to be in the middle of repairs. There were cans of plaster and sealant left scattered about. The only light came from the crack, and it seemed like I was in a small back passage of some sort. Feeling around with my hooves, I found the rungs of a ladder and, lacking other options, started to climb.

The sight of a filly scaling a ladder with her hooves would probably send anyone who came looking into a fit of laughter, at the very least. Putting my rear hooves on the lower rungs and using my fore-pasterns to climb made for slow, but steady progress. When I reached the top, I bit back complaints and tears at the strain—tough and flexible or not, I don't think ponies were meant to climb like that.

Back in the throne room I had just vacated, the footsteps had grown louder, with a heavy _clop, clop, clop_ that made me wonder if one of the larger ponies had come looking for me. Once I had scaled the ladder, I was able to climb all the way up to the level of the windows. They each had ledges where I could stand and get a peek back into the throne room. The area was cramped with more scaffolding, too, so it was easy to clamber up. Apparently the entire cave or whatever was under construction, with haphazardly discarded tools and material scattered about.

Growing curious, I took the opportunity to check over the massive sill of each window. It took a while, but I found one that had clear glass and pulled myself up to press my face against that spot.

"...made in readiness, great lord," Fetter's voice rose as the figures entered the hall, echoing through the pane. "Yer castle is nearly repaired, and more of us arrive by the day from the Ways. The Well and the Golden Bridle remain as they were, untouched."

Looking down at the throne room from above, I grumbled, for I couldn't see the great chair in the back from here and the owner of the hooves had moved on. However, Fetter was there, standing to one side of the stream and looking on, nervously holding his gnarled wand close.

"Fetter," a voice boomed down the cavernous hall, "in all of your many years of service, I have never questioned your casting calls before."

The goblin winced and dared open an eye to look.

"And I must admit, the parts were all spot on. Spot on. I just wanted to ask one thing. One, little thing."

"Ah... y-yes, Yer Majesty?" Fetter asked. "What might I, yer humble servant, eluci... luci... er, clarify for you?"

"Did I see one of the actual, unadulterated, indisputable _Elements of Harmony in my castle?_" the voice demanded, rising into a bellow that shook dust from the ceiling.

"Haha! Oh, yer Majesty, what a fine sense of humor you have, I—" there was a bang and the terrible sound of cracking stone. "Y'know, there's a funny story about that," Fetter changed tack at once.

"Do I seem to be laughing?"

"Not in the _least_, your Magnificence," the goblin went on. "It's all to do with the timing."

"Timing?" the voice asked, skeptically. "I had best hear some sense before long, Fetter. I can find a new Knight if I must. One who will not bungle quite so dramatically as you seem to have. _Timing_ was never a key part of the Event, so long as it happened in the correct fashion." Peculiar emphasis had been placed on the word "Event." My ears cocked forward, trying to catch every little nuance.

"No, no, you see, my lord, in Equestria it has been nearly nine years! Why, we only just barely fixed up your castle, y'should have seen the state of it, it was proper dilapidated it was. All of the foals went and grew into mares, while our Rainbow Dash went missing entirely. I sent messages and flyers out everywhere."

"Why did you not simply transfigure someone suitable? Did I give you that wand so you could scratch your back with it?"

"It weren't that simple. It just wouldn' _stick_, m'lord. I must've gone through half a dozen goblins and all of them turned out _completely_ wrong. Something was hinderin' the wand's power from the start—I thought at that point we'd have to kidnap a pony, do the usual, but it would have taken bloody forever. That's when the opportunity came knockin' for us." Fetter stepped forward towards the throne, pulling a rolled scroll out of his coat, going on. "It was one of the messages we sent out. The receiver wrote back."

"You're not telling me—"

"Yes, in her very own hand! Er, hoof," he corrected, and unfurled the scroll. "'Dear Castin' Agency guy, I understand you're lookin' for somepony to play the part of Rainbow Dash in an upcoming play. Obviously, this was the best idea I had ever heard in my _life_. Who _wouldn't_ want me in their play? I can't believe you never wrote me when I'm right here, though, totally available and obviously completely suited to the role. I think it'd be,'" he paused, "Hold on, she scribbled on this part. There's a drawin' in the margins of a pegasus in flight with rainbows and stars."

"Really," the other voice said, dry.

"Here we go, it goes on to say, 'totally impossible to find someone who was even half as awesome as me to play _as_ me, so why not try the real thing? Signed, Rainbow Dash. PS: Keep this signature, my autograph is going to be famous! See attached for photos of me posin' and performin' stunts, along with a handy illustration of me fightin' a giant eagle, because I can totally do that if the production calls for it.'"

Silence reigned for a moment as that sank in.

"I am failing to see how this precludes my chucking you off the parapets."

"Don'cha see, great king? It's perfect!" Fetter beamed. "She hadn't the slightest clue, she thought it was just a performance! Oh, she grumbled a few things about gamblin' and made us pay her an _obscene_ sum to keep on for a few days, but she seemed to enjoy the work. Right tidy job she's been doin', too. The girl loves her." Fat chance she did. Shows what he knew.

"Then we get to the part where she was flying out of the castle. Doesn't seem quite so 'tidy' to me from here."

"Ah, yes, that." Fetter chuckled nervously. "Well, yes, I'm right on that, actually! Our Twilight was catchin' up with her. Fine girl she is, seems to really understand the craft, took right to it. In fact, I'd better go see how she's doin'!"

"Wait, Fetter," the voice said, arresting the goblin in his tracks. "It occurs to me that this nearly complete disaster of yours regarding the Element has an unexpected silver lining."

"Aye, m'lord?" Fetter asked, but I had already heard enough.

Pulling away from the window, I set my jaw and raced along the scaffolds. There had to be an exit in the direction Fetter had started running if Rainbow Dash was leaving. I could potentially reach her before he did, too, if he was being held by his unseen master, unless the way turned in an unexpected manner. Chances were, likely, but I was pretty short on options at the moment.

Maybe I could get a few answers, too.

A run turned into a crawl as I squeezed past a small, rectangular opening. Uncut stone was above me and someone's roof lie beneath. Patches of canvas were stretched here and there and pipes were left to direct dripping water. From the sounds coming from below—shouts, arguments, snoring, cheers—I was apparently in a crawlspace over a bunch of apartments. Desperation sped me on, and I didn't care if anyone heard my hooves tapping over them in my headlong rush.

There was a small hatch up ahead, and, behind that, a set of stone doors lay in the room beyond. A pair of short, lumpy statues stood guard, with minuscule braziers full of burning coals casting smoking light across what must be the entrance to the castle. A tiny blue figure hovered impatiently before them, and a small stream hissed on the far side

A hovering blue figure…

I blinked, and looked again, the perspective readjusting as my eyes focused. Rainbow Dash, her multihued mane and tail unmistakable, was her normal size. The two statues I had seen were enormous, however, each towering at least ten or fifteen feet over her head, all hard stone and studded with spikes. What seemed like a small stream was in fact a fair-sized portion of a river, probably the one I had seen outside the castle when I'd first arrived.

As a further shock, the statues _moved_, and I saw that they weren't statues at all, but a pair of great ugly goblins as big as houses, their armor made of riveted iron plates. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I had imagined it, but I was positive they had been stone and stock-still just a moment before. The huge ogrish soldiers looked down at her with puzzled expressions, evidently wondering what this technicolor horse wanted with them. I tried to spot Dooris, but I couldn't even see the tiny door Fetter had approached that first night, assuming this was even the same side of the castle.

Even as I watched, a dark blur skidded to the floor beside Rainbow Dash in a hard landing, her wings and mane askew. Twilight Sparkle no longer looked quite so much like a princess to my eye. She was a mess, for one, and her stricken face conveyed a wealth of panic that was not at all regal.

"Wait, Rainbow, please!" Twilight Sparkle pleaded, coughing up dust as she scrambled back to her hooves.

"I already told you, I'm leaving, and I'm leaving _right now_," Rainbow announced as she flew up to the face of one of the guards. "Open up! I'm getting outta here."

The giant looked thoughtful, something that it didn't look like it had to do regularly and which caused it enormous discomfort. "Boss Fetter sez no openin' the doors."

"So just open one of 'em."

The giant blinked, slowly, and moved to push at a door. His partner reached over and banked on his head, sending up a great gong as gauntlet met iron helm. "Don' be an idjit. Warn't that good a trick."

"Aw, c'mon!" Rainbow protested, before landing in front of the doors. She turned and bucked them with her rear hooves, eliciting no more than a faint thump. "_Oww_."

"Please, don't go," Twilight said, coming up to Rainbow's side while the latter nursed her cannons. "I don't understand what's gone wrong."

"Isn't it obvious?" Rainbow demanded. "I mean—okay, so I have no idea what's going on, except that I'm in a freaky castle filled with freaky people and a bunch of freaky pony actors. Just what kind of production is this, anyway?" She rose up and flared her wings aggressively, advancing on Twilight. "Just what am I looking at here?"

Twilight fell back, her own eyes falling to the floor and her wings drooping. "I-I thought you knew, I-I m-mean, didn't Fetter explain?"

"Explain? Explain nothing! I get a letter looking for someone who's supposed to be playing Rainbow Dash, I show up, show off, get the gig, and then, outta nowhere, I find out that I'm supposed to play big sister to some kid who obviously didn't know the whole thing was staged. _For days._ _And _she went and practically bit my nose when I tried to tell her!"

Rainbow's wings sagged once she'd finished, and she muttered, "Little twerp, I was just trying to help." The echoes carried the sound my way.

Red filled my vision, making it rather hard to concentrate. If I hadn't been trying to hide, I might have sprung down and charged her right then.

It was just like with Daphne. Rainbow Dash was just like her. _Big sister,_ indeed.

I knew all about big sisters. They existed for one purpose: to let you down and abandon you when you needed them the most.

Twilight had managed to get a hoof on Rainbow's shoulder, and spoke so softly now it was hard to catch the echoes in the chamber. "It's all right… sure she… wonderful little filly… cares about you… acted back at the… talk to Fetter… straightened out—explain everything."

"Look,_ you_." Rainbow knocked Twilight's hoof aside and pointed one of her own at the other mare. She flinched back, looking hurt. "I'm not doing anything, except _leaving_."

Twilight's response was inaudible, but she looked to be acquiescing, before another pony sprang into the room, pink legs flailing wildly. "Girls, girls!" Panting, Pinkie Pie slid to a halt beside them, gripping the pair of them in her forelegs. "I just saw Amelia. She fell down the scaffolding!"

"_What?_" they both demanded at once.

"Stop staring at me like that and come help me look! She could be hurt!"

I didn't need to hear any more. There was no getting out the front door. Fetter would be here any minute and now they were actively looking for me.

Besides, I didn't want to spend one more minute looking at that awful blue pegasus.

If a river was flowing through the castle, then that meant there _was_ a way out, and I was going to find it.

Saying, apparently, was a lot easier than doing around here.

Obviously, dashing across the open entryway would have ensured everyone and everypony would have seen me, so it was back into the crawlspace. The leaky, poorly maintained tunnels had me squirming and shuffling for what felt like miles. I nearly fell into someone's living room more than once, and almost into someone's bubbling stewpot on one occasion. As I went, goblins were starting to rouse and collect themselves, heading out to do whatever it is a goblin did with their day.

My break came when I saw where they were getting their water. The main part of the castle was a great empty shell, I noticed from another scaffold, rising up to the Phonyville stage and its artificial sun. Not too far away, a massive vertical conveyer rose towards the ceiling, with enormous buckets full of water on one side and upturned ones on the other. It was emptying itself somewhere above, but what was far more interesting was where the water was coming from—down below.

With a determined grin, I found the nearest point on the bucket elevator, gathered a running start, and leapt clear across the gap to land on the bottom of one of the descending barrels with a hard, painful thud. I glanced around, hoping to see if Rainbow Dash, Twilight, and Fluttershy were in the air looking for me, but none of them were around.

Come to think of it, I had never seen Fluttershy actually fly. Reflecting on the conversation Fetter had held with his unseen master, I began to wonder if I had ever actually met somepony named "Fluttershy" at all, or anypony aside from Rainbow Dash for that matter.

"'Anypony?'" I mouthed, rolling that over on my tongue. Great, now I was doing it.

At that point, I decided to look down off the side to see where I was going. This proved to be a tremendous mistake, and I spent most of the trip down curled up in a ball at the dead center of my ride. Perhaps leaping off the scaffold like that had not been my brightest idea.

Vertigo subsided as the descent neared its nadir. The bowels of the castle, dug deep into the native rock, were damp, dark, and filled with strange noises that echoed up out of unknown, impossible vastnesses. Dim light filtered down from above, but also from below and along the sides; a faint, eerie luminescence in a white pallor. It seemed to me that I could hear snatches of song drifting out. Perhaps from above, where the goblins were just starting work, or from below and beside. It was impossible to tell.

_ With axe in hand and stone beneath,_

_ Into the maw below,_

_ For a pauper's life we can't abide,_

_ To the tunnels we must go._

_ We go, we go,_

_ In service to the throne._

The descending bucket drew lower still, and I could dare to look over the edge now. Groaning, I pulled back. A dark pool lay below, glittering in the dim light and rippling from the passage of the conveyor. If there was a river exit there, I had missed it. Leaping from the bucket as it lowered, I spun down the smooth, slimy, moss-covered rock and slid to a halt.

_ Against heartless beasts below,_

_ Into the deep we march for gold,_

_ They'd eat us, 'fore we know,_

_ But the riches lie untold._

"The Morgwyn always wonders why the wee bairn takes the long route."

My head lifted up, and beheld the creature standing on one of the spurs of rock that rose all about. "The short way was straight down."

_ So we go, we go,_

_ In service to the throne._

"Indeed. This one noticed," it agreed, and flicked its tail.

Rising, I shook myself. Maybe this was what keeping a cat was like. They came and went as they pleased and never showed the least bit of interest until you pretended you were poisonous.

_ We brave the deeps for the King of Wands,_

_ We soldiers down below,_

_ From a thousand worlds, we mine for our Liege,_

_ To the tunnels we must go._

_ We go, we go,_

_ In service to the throne._

"Do you know the way out?" I asked the Morgwyn, checking to make sure nothing had fallen out of my bag. My floodlight still worked, the beam shuddering on after I pulled it out. Of course, how I would carry it was another matter. If only Twilight had taught me telekinesis.

If she even could teach me telekinesis. Who even knew what she really was, anyway?

"Yes," the Morgwyn answered, languidly observing me.

_ The deeps bring death,_

_ The dark eats light,_

_ Stone crushes us below,_

_ But we have no fear, no weakness hear!_

_ No goblin stands alone!_

When it neglected to elaborate, I glanced up at it. "Where is it?" I asked again, and then quickly corrected myself in case it decided to be clever with its answers, "I mean—where can I find the way out?"

"The wee bairn asks this one such a thing after it took the time to bring it here? Oh, she is a bold one, like a spark leaping from flame," the Morgwyn said, by way of answering. Those burning blue eyes were like a pair of bright stars against its black fur, points of purpose in a silhouette.

"I'm not going back up there. Even if they took me, I know they're faking it now," I told it seriously.

"The Morgwyn imagined such. Not such a fine job. Sloppy, unrehearsed."

"So what does it hurt to just tell me the way out, Morg?" I asked, more persistently, shining my beam around. There was an odd smell. Somehow oily, it was a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant; sweet in one breath, and then foul the next.

_ We come back up into night,_

_ The sky dark as the deep,_

_ As we head back to homes,_

_ To sleep in beds, to rest our heads!_

_ For the tunnels we will go!_

Cocking an ear, the Morgwyn lifted its head and stared up at the hole from which I had just come. "To the river. Up, and away. Not the way you came, but another."

"Can you…" I trailed off, gritting my teeth. "_Will_ you lead me out of the castle, safely?" When I got back home, I would have to apologize for telling my English teacher that her lessons would never save anybody's life.

"The Morgwyn will see to it that the wee bairn does not... fail," it answered sardonically, leaping down to pace beside me. In my filly form the Morgwyn was taller than me at full height, though usually it kept its head at the level of its shoulders. I ought to have found it imposingly huge, but I couldn't help but find that bulk and power oddly comforting.

For just a moment, I felt a brief pang of longing for Asmodeus. Aside from my bag, everything I had on hand was purely practical, and nothing really felt like home. You couldn't cuddle a flashlight, no matter how dark it got.

Sticking the floodlight's handle in my mouth, I carried it along as I walked. If Morg was going to keep me from failing, I might as well start trying to get lost. Hopefully that would be a sufficient failure.

The castle's underbelly was apparently honeycombed with underground galleries and tunnels. Somewhere, goblins were working nearby, so there must have been some way for them to get up and down that didn't involve riding the big, dangerous water wheel. I didn't look forward to the thought of wandering the tunnels randomly and hoping that the echoes weren't entirely misleading.

Stupid Daphne. Stupid Rainbow Dash.

As we started into one of the entrances close to ground level, I perceived at least part of the source of the smell I had detected earlier. Warm, hot air, much warmer than that around me, flowed out before being met by an inhalation of cold that swept my mane back, as if the cavern were breathing. The warm air was rank with oil and grease and made my nose twitch. Even Morg looked briefly annoyed.

_ We'll go, we'll go,_

_ In service to the throne._

The singing was definitely louder there. Hopefully that meant it was also the _right_ way to go.

The ceiling of this cavern was riddled with great pipes that had been drilled through the rock, cast out of iron or wood in a hodgepodge of styles. Some looked positively ancient, covered in rust and rot, while others were shiny and brand new. All of them dripped unmentionable, unwholesome _stuff_ down into a huge pool that lay at the bottom. The pool itself was ringed with stairs that rose up in interlocking pyramids, and judging from the blackened lines on the walls, the pool had settled at different heights throughout the ages.

It also stank like the river downstream from the industrial park, where even the bravest kids refused to swim—all oil, rotting plastic, and things you'd need a degree in Chemistry just to appreciate how foul the thing you had just stepped in was. The Morgwyn gave me an absolutely withering look as I lingered to peek down, but I didn't need its encouragement to keep going.

Just as we were starting to circle the sewage pit, though, it surged. The churning fluids reacted with one another to form a filthy sort of phosphorescence as a great bulge rose and swelled. At first I thought that some disgusting bubble was rising to burst, but then a huge, warty, frog-like head slipped out of the murk and turned its foul gaze on me. Dark green and tough, it opened its mouth to reveal a number of blunt, cracked teeth and a huge purple tongue.

"What've we here, then, eh?" it asked. Stinking webbed hands rose up on either side to brace itself in the pit, while it licked at one tooth to suck thoughtfully.

As far as little girls went, I knew that I was considered strange compared to others my age. I couldn't help it if most girls didn't see the value of memorizing the periodic table and the complete works of Jules Verne, if they thought preparing for werewolf and vampire attacks was paranoid, if they didn't understand how completely awesome insects and reptiles were in all of their alien beauty, variety, and dangers, or if they thought collections of animal skulls were too morbid. Even I had to draw the line somewhere, though, and this frog-trash-compactor was definitely _not_ cool.

Come to think of it, the principal didn't think much of my skull collection, either. Guess that goes to show that you can't really trust authority figures with anything.

"Nobody," I said, putting my flashlight down to speak and glance around. No way was I going to get past this thing if it didn't want to let me. Retreat might be necessary.

The great frog-thing craned up, breathing foul breath heavily on the pair of us.. "Don'cha mean no _pony?_" it asked. "Why be in such a hurry to go? Pull up a rock. Stay a tidy spell. Stay for lunch, even."

"You see a lot of ponies down here, then?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder. I debated whether I could run or not. Of course, if I waited any longer, it might pull itself higher and get a better vantage. Then again, if I was too obvious he might spring now and catch me. "We haven't seen any. Also, it's totally dinner time."

"We who, wee pony?" he asked. "It's just you'n'me. Nice little dinner party."

Blinking, I stared around again. For a moment, I thought he was right and that the Morgwyn had abandoned me, but then I spotted a shift in the shadows nearby, a faint flash of witch-light. Damn it. Was Morg hiding from the creature and leaving me to fend for myself?

"Wotcher, wee morsel?" the frog asked, with a hungry light burning in his eyes.

"I don't know what that means! But, really," I started to back slowly, "I'm kind of small, aren't I? A wee morsel. Hardly even a nibble, not worth the trouble."

"Oh, no, no trouble at all." The great frog or goblin or whatever it was put its huge feet higher, and it now loomed well into the cavern. The filthy goo was churned up into a bright, sickly green radiance that filled the cavern with its shifting shadows.

I picked my flashlight up, readying it in one hoof. Really, I should have been terrified, but I just felt _wired_. This thing was about to try and catch me like a fly with its big, ugly tongue and gobble me up as a snack, and I was almost ready to start laughing. It was a ridiculous and probably not a very healthy reaction, but there it was nonetheless.

"Yeah? Well, I think you'll find me more trouble than you might believe." I lifted my floodlight into my mouth and flicked the switch to flash it directly into the frog-thing's eye as he came closer. Hurriedly, I started to turn around, prepared to run for cover.

The strength of his reaction caught me off guard, however. He flinched, all right, but then he fell back with a terrified shriek, almost falling back into the pit entirely. "Take it away, take it away!" he begged, his voice trembling, its very echoes pathetic. "Mercy, pony! Don' let it take me!"

I spat my floodlight into my hoof and stared at it uncomprehendingly. Was the frog monster that sensitive to a sudden bright light? At the sound of heavy breathing, however, I turned and saw the Morgwyn standing beside me now. Its eyes were open wide, the blue light in them flaring, while its mouth was open wide with all of its glowing teeth revealed and dripping. The frills along its back were fully extended, and more light issued forth from it, as if the tendrils were white hot. Then heat _did_ roll from it, the air around it shimmering. Steam rose from where its paws touched the damp earth, and it advanced a single step, claws out.

The frog monster _wibbled_. That was really the only way to describe its sudden attack of blubbering squeaks. Far from hiding from the monster, it seemed as if the Morgwyn was more than capable of frightening the creature, despite their incredible disparity in size and apparent strength.

And it was on _my_ side. Sort of. Oh, this was going to be just _awesome_. I was so going to abuse this.

"So," I stepped forward boldly, "my friend here is very angry. It told me once that no one would interfere with its prey. The goblins called it _the_ _Morgwyn_." I drew the name out, enjoying the way the frog-thing shuddered and covered its eyes, trying to sink further back into the viscous puddle. "I can't really be held responsible for what happens if it stays here," I mused aloud, rubbing my chin. "Maybe if we just knew the way out of this pit and back up to the surface, by the river, I could convince it to leave."

Smiling down at the monster with a grin full of teeth, I asked, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Yes, yes, anything, just take that bloody _monster_ away!"

"Just as well," Morg hissed, cooling slowly as it relaxed, "the Morgwyn would not have cared to taste such a revolting creature." It sniffed disdainfully, and settled back to preen at its own frills.

The tunnels underneath the goblin castle were long, more by virtue of being twisty and redundant than by real extent. Mines, the frog monster had called them. It seemed like a really silly idea to dig a big hole mine right under where your castle was, but then I wasn't a goblin, and I didn't really know much about engineering. At the least, I didn't need my flashlight here. There were shafts cut into the rock above and steady light flooded down from them, along with fresh, cool air. and they lent the tunnels a radiance about them as the minerals that were left behind sparkled and gleamed.

Were it not for the instructions given I might have been lost completely, and, as it was, I was already lost since the frog monster's instructions hadn't been all _that_ good to begin with. Of course, the Morgwyn had promised to keep me from failing, but that didn't seem to prevent it from letting me accidentally take a wrong turn and having to backtrack. Indeed, my friendly cat monster seemed enormously amused whenever I did, its tail flicking up in a way that suggested merriment.

This, however, was getting to be the last straw. I had just passed through the turn the frog creature had wanted me to take, but it just looped back on itself and put me back at the turning junction. Briefly, I wondered if the creature had lied and whether or not it may be a good idea to go back there and see if the Morgwyn might reconsider eating him. Just a bite, really, I didn't want to see the thing _killed_.

Taking a deep breath, I exhaled, and started back the way I had come, wondering if I had just missed a turn earlier and wound up in a dead end.

_From a thousand worlds, we mine for out liege._

I jumped as the lyrics reached me. It sounded so close that I might have been in the same room as the singers. With a swivel of my ears, I tried to follow the source of the singing as it rose and fell, and found it led right back into the looping dead end. I launched off at once, charging down the tunnel.

This time, something _was _different. Among all of the rocks that had been discarded by the goblins in their quest for whatever it was they were mining, one of them had _moved_, and it wasn't a rock any more. Instead, a beefy goblin stood leaning against a cave mouth, from which light and verse were issuing in equal measure.

Like most goblins I had seen, he had rough features, with big, floppy ears, thick skin, and was dressed like he was late for a party in the wrong century, with a big canvas sea coat. He took one look at my coming and yelped in shock, then stepped into the hole, tucked his arms, heads, and legs against himself, and turned to stone. His rough skin and his worn coat both took on the texture of the rock around him, such that he seemed a completely natural part of the setting and blocked off the portal.

_Even if your illusion is perfect, _Twilight Sparkle's voice floated up in my mind again,_ it can do you no good at all if you botch the delivery so badly everypony knows it's there_.

Stepping forward lightly, I tapped a hoof against the rock, hearing a satisfying clop. "Excuse me, Mister Goblin?" Might as well be polite before I tried anything drastic.

Silence was his response. I narrowed my eyes, and tapped again, more firmly. "Mister Goblin, I saw you transform. You clearly saw me see you."

"No you didn'," the goblin-turned-rock muttered back at me. "Go 'way."

My jaw worked a few times in bewilderment. "You really intend to go through with this, even after I have already seen you?"

"Don' know what ye're talkin' about. Just a rock here. Go play somewhere else, lass. Git."

"Mister _Goblin_," I said, tapping on him again, "rocks don't talk back to people, whether to tell them to leave or not."

There was a momentary silence, then it muttered, "...'course they do. Just told you to git, and I'm a rock, I am. But I don' like you so I'll shut up, now. It's proper stoic it is, tidy-like."

"If you're a rock, and rocks can talk, these other rocks should talk as well, right?" I asked. The goblin-turned-rubble didn't answer, so I went over to one of the bigger stones nearby, tapping.

"Excuse me, Mister Boulder—" I started.

"Ahem!" Only to interrupt myself, pitching my voice as deep as I could. "Mister Boulder is my _father_, kid. People I know call me Rocky. Youse better wise up. Fillies like you better not stick dere hooves into other people's faces all the time like dat."

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, Rocky," I apologized to the rock, reverting to my normal tone of voice. The goblin had not yet responded. Thinking back, I reflected on what I had overheard behind the door that led to the backstage of Phonyville, nearly a week ago, and grinned. "I just thought I'd ask you about my friend over here."

"Dat guy?" I said in my Rocky voice, really getting into it now. "He's a schmuck. Ain't got the slightest clue how to be a rock." The goblin-rock shifted slightly. "Not _method_ enough."

The goblin's head snapped up, as the impression faded, texture returning to his own rough features. "What didja say, y'barmy stone you?" he demanded, scrambling to his feet, "Well? Say that to my face!"

I looked between him and the rock I had been speaking to. "See? He's ignoring you to show how much more of a rock he is."

"I'll show him what a rock is, you just wait right there!" he growled, heading into the light. "Where's my rock hammer? I'll pulverize the cheeky git into gravel!"

Giggling with excitement, I scampered into the hole after him, pleased with my success over the guardian, however dimwitted he was. I even started prancing like a pony at show.

Really, though, I probably should have known better than to get cocky.

A goblin's leg was surprisingly unyielding for something made of flesh and bone, and I smacked into one hard enough to send stars through my vision. I reeled, and my bag overbalanced me and made me fall flat on my back. My heart curdled in my chest as I stared up, directly into the face of another goblin.

As far as goblins went, he was very different—at least among those I had met up until now. Unlike any of the ones I had seen so far, he wasn't particularly malformed aside from the green spots decorating the back of his arms and near his hairline. His face was, actually, very smooth and kind of handsome. Not that I cared about such things, boys being stupid and all. A cloak, of all things, covered his head and back. It had been pulled back enough to reveal that his ears were slightly furred and triangular, however, like a cat, even though little else of him was.

Regardless of what he looked like, though, I was toast. Other goblins, shorter and uglier than he, were gathering around to look down at me. Barring the Morgwyn swooping in and hauling me away to safety, my chances of keeping them from dragging me back to the others was pretty much nil.

"Well, you're new," Cat-ears said. He had the same funny accent as all the rest, though not as thickly—rather like Twilight. Hands grasped me and hauled me upright, the goblins dusting me off. "What's your story, little one?"

I stared around blankly, momentarily at a loss. Up above, a square mine shaft had been dug into a natural cavern. It had obviously been expanded, leaving behind columns of native stone supporting a ceiling carved with vaulting braces, much like the throne room. Goblins by the score toiled with hammer, pickaxe, and more, while conveyors rattled and clanked along as they hauled rubble down belts into huge rollers that crushed them into powder. All throughout it, the goblins were singing their strange work song, in voices throaty, unharmonized, and untrained.

It seemed the Morgwyn had abandoned me again, but it sidled up to join me, apparently having been just behind me. Evidently, the goblins had more than a little reason to take me seriously, though none of them seem to recognize the cat-creature.

"Uh." I blinked up at him and the others looking down at me. "I've come to look at your... fine operation, here!" In a long history of lying to adults and authority figures, I had developed a keen sense for when a lie was solid and believably delivered. This was neither.

"You seem a little small for the king's inspector," Cat-ears said skeptically. "Place is dangerous for kids, you know."

I braced for the cry of recognition, the realization that I was lying, the hands dragging me into a bag or clamping me in irons or—wait a second, what? I stared around at them. The goblins all looked at me in an uncertain fashion, but none of them had taken the step of fingering me as a liar yet. This was almost disappointing.

"Fetter sent me, because he couldn't come himself." My future depended on being able to carry this off convincingly, so I drew on all the little details I could remember. "I was just up in the throne room a little bit ago, and the king was grilling him something fierce over the big project going on at the top of the castle—you know, with the big stage and the ponies?"

The light of understanding dawned in several faces, though Cat-ears still gave me a doubting frown. I smiled up at him and buffed a hoof against my coat. "You know how the Great King can get. His hooves were pounding so hard the granite in his throne room _cracked_, and he brandished that big ash staff of his like he was about to turn Fetter into a whole mess of frogs. I'm really just hoping to deliver some good news so he calms down and doesn't blow us all up. Why don't we just get this inspection over with and I'll tell Fetter what a good job you're doing. Tidy?"

One day, I really needed to ask what that word meant. Well, I knew what it _meant,_ but not the way the goblins used it. Ideally, it wouldn't be while I was rotting in a dungeon cell.

Cat-ears chuckled, and I suppressed a whoop. "I thought I heard the King bellowing. That's a goblin's lot in life, innit?"

"Come scurrying when they yell, bow and scrape to appease them, and then get back to doing the _real_ work around here?" I suggested, going out on a limb. Gambling was going to get me in trouble someday.

The other goblins laughed. "I'll drink to that," one voice called. Even Cat-ears looked amused at it and cuffed me.

"All right, little one. We're tidy, then. Let me show you around. Fetter'll be proper impressed."

Apparently, that day wasn't going to be today.

The goblins were in another repetition of the song I had heard, but I didn't pay attention this time. The more full-throated goblins used the echoes of the cavern to their advantage, with one group singing a verse and then another joining it with the next. No wonder I heard it all the way over in the well.

"Oh, wow, so you produce _all_ of the metal used in the goblin city?" I asked, feigning awe as I trotted alongside Cat-ears—or Cord, as he named himself—as he led me around, showing off the operations with a distinct sense of pride. I always liked it when people were receptive to flattery.

There was something very confusing about the way goblins worked, but they seemed to do so enthusiastically. They were heedless of danger, often swinging massive hammers quite close to one another's heads, or dropping heavy bags of rocks over the edges of walkways and only belatedly warning those below. Despite that, the brutish creatures laughed off minor injuries and accidents with a sort of cheerful grace. Even as I watched, a fight broke out over who had the right to control the speed of a conveyor belt, and Cord watched as the machine nearly flew out of control without batting an eye.

The two belligerents traded blows until their fellows parted them. Almost immediately, they started laughing and working to fix the damage, picking up loose gears and refitting the belt. The two who had attacked one another worked side-by-side as if nothing had happened. Harmony and barbarism hand-in-hand.

"More than just that," Cord picked up where we had left off, "we've expanded to smelting and forging it right here." He indicated a line of enormous brick kilns, lining one upper-floor gallery near a shaft that drew the smoke outside. Goblins in cloth masks hopped up and down on the bellows. Rhythmic clanging and flashes of light—all in time to the music—issued forth from half-seen smithies, while big goblins carried bars of solid steel to and fro.

"Ooo," I cooed appreciatively, poking my nose over the edge to see where they were dumping the waste from the smelters. Practically on top of the heads of other goblins working to free veins from the rock, as it turned out.

"Of course, that's hardly the extent of production. Why, aside from providing all the high-quality stone and metal for the king, we also provide the weather," Cord went on, leading me across a rope bridge that crossed a chasm. Goblins hung on lines down below, digging at glittering gems in the walls.

My cover was nearly blown right then, though by all rights it probably should have been lost earlier. I mouthed it to myself instead. "Weather?"

"It's the damned pegasi, of course," he explained anyway, to my relief. "This end of the Everfree brushes up against their control. It's bad enough we have to deal with the crossworld weather patterns the Everfree already has, but bumping up against controlled airspace? It's just chaos here, I tell you."

The rangy goblin kicked a door open, leading me into a division of the cavern where an enormous cauldron was embedded into the rock, steel bolted into the striated red stone. It bubbled merrily with a multi-hued fluid, stirred easily at the behest of a huge mechanical spoon mounted on a gear shaft that was being turned by goblins hitched to a wheel. Each of them was hooved and quadrupedal, and, indeed, they looked a lot like ponies, though their coats were coarse and tufted. Some of them had feathered crests, while one had scales running up his legs. They all argued in rough voices, and I caught snatches of it: they were discussing mares, their kids, and something called "hoofball."

"Finest rainbows you'll find outside of Cloudsdale, they are," Cord said, sweeping a hand, drawing his attention to a set of goblin ponies with leathery wings. They were working a skein and pouring the rainbow mixture directly onto it. Beside them, another humanoid goblin was pouring a bag of rough, red gemstones into a cylinder, then sand and some sort of viscous liquid, before closing it and turning it with a crank. "We grind together seven colors of gemstones and bind the mixture with rare manticore oils. Don't ask where the oil comes from. It ain't a pretty answer."

Cord seemed to notice my intent stare at the strange ponies, and chuckled. "Don't happen to have a relative in there, do you? I don't think we have anyone that scrawny working down here."

"Ah, no, my parents work on the set," I said distantly.

"Proper actors, eh? I wish I could get into that." He rubbed his chin. "Used to be in the circuit back in Niflheim, but, well, you know how that went I suspect. Transformations were never my strong suit."

Having absolutely no idea what he meant, I made a noncommittal noise, which seemed to satisfy him. I knew that transformations were a subset of illusion when it came to stage magic, of course, but he could have meant with a wand, like Fetter's, or some trick Twilight never got to show me. As for Niflheim… that tickled something familiar, but I would have to dig up Dad's comic book collection to find where I last saw it—and _that_ wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

"What about clouds?" I asked, hoping to divert the topic.

"Glad you asked!" he said, taking me over into another chamber. Huge fans were being cranked by sweating goblins, blowing droplets of water from pipes above into a fine mist that spun in a little tornado around a central pole. Another goblin in a white robe, heavy gloves, and goggles was pouring some bluish-black powder into the tornado, and great fluffy clouds puffed up. It was like a giant cotton candy machine, with the results being funneled into pipes leading who only knew where.

"Neat," I said, only half-lying this time, and prepared to move on, suddenly hungry for cotton candy. There was a crack of thunder, and I jumped, coat standing on end. "Holy _cats!_" I yelped, glancing around. Looking up, I saw a number of jars wired together and bolted into the ceiling, with arcs of blue electricity jumping between them.

Cord laughed, waving to another of the winged goblins who was checking each of the jars, her hair standing on end. He made a catching gesture, and what looked awfully like a flint handaxe was tossed down to him. It was presented to me, Cord grinning broadly. "Thunderstone, see?" he said. I touched it, gently, and felt a subtle thrum pulse through my hooves. Then he abruptly tossed it to me, barking, "Careful you don't drop it, now!"

With a yelp, I caught it in my teeth, and got a jolt that numbed my tongue for my troubles. A few nearby workers guffawed, but I put it in my pack thoughtfully and offered a grin back up to him. Taking a prank with good nature was a good way to ingratiate yourself with some folks, I found. The female not-a-pegasus dropped to a clumsy landing nearby, giving me an uneasy smile as she scuffed a hoof across the ground. To my surprise, she was at best only a couple years older than I was, if ponies had the same age progression humans did. Awkward, leggy, and coltish—or filly-ish, however it went—very much like a teenager.

"And this here is the vascular system of our little marvel." Cord demanded my attention again, bringing me around to the mineshaft. An enormous multi-lift elevator ran up and out of sight in a tangle of ropes, pulleys, wood, steel, bracings, and platforms. Great counterweights, over a dozen huge stones, rose and fell in graceful mechanical majesty on either side. "Got a throughput of well over a hundred tons an hour on the good days, and it replaced the workload of well over a hundred goblins, too, with a water wheel near the surface as big as several houses."

"Impressive," I said. That was probably the water wheel I had seen outside when Fetter first brought me to the castle, which meant that this had been _exactly_ where I wanted to go. I squinted up at the device. "What are they doing?" I pointed a hoof up at goblins in tight black clothing climbing around the elevator, scaling its ropes and framework.

"Oh, they're the mechanics," Cord elaborated. "They keep the gears lubricated and check the stress on the system. Without them, the elevator might fly to pieces under its own force."

"How many of them are there?"

He chewed on that one for a moment, running numbers in his head. "Maybe eighty, ninety?"

"To replace a hundred goblins?"

Cord positively beamed. "Ain't progress grand?"

"Ain't it," I agreed tightly, suppressing an eye roll. Starting towards one of the smaller elevators, barely big enough for a few people to stand on, I was surprised to see the goblin filly tending the lightning jars already there. Her face was buried in a paper bag that apparently contained her lunch, with her wild, frizzy white mane falling over one side and her leathery wings tucked up.

"Going up?" I asked her cheerfully.

She jerked, pulling her face out of the bag, her muzzle stained. "Oh, uhm, yes."

"No, she isn't," Cord said, looking annoyed as he stomped over. "Didn't I tell you that you had another shift today, Wire?"

"I-I cleared a schedule change with th-the sh-shift manager, sir," she stammered, ducking her head and folding her ears back.

"Well, _I'm_ unclearing it, and I'll be having a talk with your manager, too. We've got big business afoot. The King's prophecies are coming around, and we can't have anyone slacking, even if they're young. Speaking of," he directed his attention to me, "we've still got part of the caverns to look over. I don't want Fetter stomping down here with a big magnifying glass looking for problems because of a scanty report."

That put me in a bit of a conundrum. On the one hand—hoof—Cord seemed to have bought my story, hook, line, and sinker. On the other hoof, the alarm had certainly been raised in the castle and they would certainly be looking for me, and it didn't seem likely that they'd just forget to look down in the caves. On a third hoof, I was getting _seriously_ bored of the place.

Running out of options and hooves alike, I examined the ropes and pulleys around me, and then gestured to the Morgwyn. "Cut that line." I pointed at a rope that led from the release catch by the platform.

Wire caught on a moment before Cord did, already in the process of wiping her face and stepping off as her boss had instructed. Her pale blue eyes turned to mine in shock, and she tried to leap off, only to connect with Cord, who had been too surprised to move out of the way. She rebounded and fell back against me as the Morgwyn reached out with one glowing claw and snipped the thick rope effortlessly.

Somewhere above, a stone began to fall, and we rose with it. It fell faster, and our elevator platform shot up the shaft, picking up incredible speed. Sunlight, blessed sunlight, poured in blindingly as we rose to meet the top of the shaft.

The shaft let out into a chamber that was alive with the sound of shouting goblins. Groans, creaks, and a horrible rattling filled my ears with the forces unleashed. The roar of the river that ran through the canyon outside the goblin city added to the cacophony, and a portion of it ran through the chamber, between a pair of decorative columns of floppy-eared goblins fashioned to look as though they were holding the ceiling up.

When the platform hit the top of its measure, the three of us flew off, and I landed hard on the stone, the wind knocked out of me. The Morgwyn barely seemed to notice as it landed on its feet, and it snarled with such ferocity that goblins nearby scrambled away at once. Struggling to get back to my hooves, I made to leap into the channel, but something heavy made me fall flat on my jaw again.

Turning my dazed head, I saw Wire holding on to me, the teenage goblin gibbering with panic from the rapid ascent. "Leggo!" I protested, and strained for the channel, while Wire continued to cling in a death grip. I tried to appeal to the Morgwyn, but goblins in spiked armor and a forest of long weaponry were pouring in, and it had turned to fend them off.

"Don't hurt her!" I heard a familiar voice cry, and saw the white coat of Rarity standing out against the stairs that led out. "Amelia, darling, please stop this!"

The thought that I might be captured at any moment sent fire to my veins. My forehooves strained, and I dragged myself bodily to the edge of the channel. Unable to free my hind legs, I summoned all of my meager strength and twisted. Charged with desperate adrenaline, I hauled Wire along with me, and we both tumbled into the fast-rushing water.

Rarity's scream and the splash of the Morgwyn hitting the water followed me, before I was swept out of the castle and into the river, heading for the woods. Wire clung to me with strength surpassing her meager frame as we traveled, and how either of us kept from drowning in the current was a mystery, but travel we did. Hopefully, it would take us far away from that stupid castle filled with stupid goblins and stupid, fake ponies.

I didn't even get to see any murder holes. What a rip off.

**CHAPTER END**

* * *

Alternative Chapter Title: Amelia Insults a Rock.

You'd never have been able to tell the difference.

Now you all get to see what the true form of fake Ponyville – or Phonyville – is.  
The goblins are one of my favorite parts of writing Pirene. That shouldn't come as a surprise – they're a significant part of the setting! They're the villains of the story and, yet, as you can see, they're really just people for the most part. Strange, sometimes monstrous people. Only very few of them want to eat children, I swear.

This ought to give you a fair bit of insight into their society and psychology, but it's only one of several glimpses to come. Amelia's adventures in the strange and eerie are still just getting started. A castle buried into a mountain is only the first step.

Daphne has not yet caught up in Timeline, but I wanted you all to have a taste of Amy, because we're going to have a long stretch of Daphne following this one.

Also welcome our latest cast member, Wire! Sorry, Wire, you've been roped into Amy's story without your consent.

I'd like to thank my friend Talhe for coming up with the Goblin Workers' Song. I'll post the full lyrics in an update to these author notes and a blog shortly. Thank you Morning Angles, for giving me a buffer of chapters I can post at my leisure.

Stay tuned next week, for when Daphne gets to accomplish one of her lifelong dreams.

Complete Lyrics to To The Tunnels We Must Go!:  
_With axe in hand and stone beneath,_  
_Into the maw below,_  
_For a pauper's life we can't abide,_  
_To the tunnels we must go._

_We go, we go,_  
_In service to the throne,_

_Against heartless beasts below,_  
_Into the deep we march for gold,_  
_They'd eat us, 'fore we know,_  
_But the riches lie untold._

_So we go, we go,_  
_In service to the throne,_

_We brave the deeps for the King of Wands,_  
_We soldiers down below,_  
_From a thousand worlds, we mine for our liege,_  
_To the tunnels we must go,_

_We go, we go,_  
_In service to the throne,_

_[Reprieve]_  
_The deeps bring death,_  
_The dark eats light,_  
_Stone crushes us below,_  
_But we have no fear, no weakness here!_  
_No goblin stands alone!_

_We come back up into night,_  
_The sky dark as the deep,_  
_As we head back to homes,_  
_To sleep in beds, to rest our heads!_  
_For the tunnels we will go!_

_We'll go, we'll go,_  
_In service to the throne,_

_With axe in hand and stone beneath,_  
_Into the maw below,_  
_It's a pauper's life for those who stay,_  
_So the tunnels we will go._

_Into the deep, searching for gold,_  
_Against heartless beasts below._  
_They'd eat us, we've all been told,_  
_But the riches we shall know._

_So we'll go, we'll go._  
_In service to the throne._  
_We'll go, we'll go._  
_To the tunnels we will go._  
_To the tunnels we will go!_


	7. Chapter 7 - Reunion

Chapter 7: Reunion

"**And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." Luke 15:20**

**Daphne**

The land surrounding Ponyville was sprawling and free, much like the town itself from the look of it. We picked as our hiding place a peaceful grove of trees not far from the large farm, in sight of a number of cottages and smaller farms. A few of them jutted right up against the edge of the Everfree Forest. There was a large pond with a swing nailed to a tree branch not far off, but it was unlikely anyone—nor anypony—would see Marcus, Hector, and Naomi from there.

It must have been past harvest, because it seemed as though there wasn't much in the ground. I didn't know if they had snow in Equestria, but winter was pretty close back home. No ponies were in sight, at least not yet.

"If this place were any more cute, I would be vomiting." Marcus glanced up as he settled down in a tree hollow. Despite what I thought were reasonable concerns of security given the monsters barely a mile back, even Marcus had elected to pack away his rifle. He was right, though—it was hard to think of this place as dangerous in any way.

"I could stand it to be a little cuter," Naomi said. She had settled on her belly with a pair of binoculars. "Hee, one of them has a little basket; she's carrying it in her mouth! She's got a pale blue coat and lilac mane."

Marcus thumbed at Naomi. "Well, she doesn't need any entertainment. Why didn't we bring something to read?"

I looked up from rummaging in our packs. "Because we had no idea how long it would take to get here, so we packed only what we needed."

"I know, but still." He grumbled, stretched, and lay back. "I'll catch some shut eye, then keep watch. Oh, and, Daph?" I paused in the middle of my search to regard him. "Good luck. I, ah... hope the meeting goes well," Marcus said, pointedly looking at the branches over my head.

I was left momentarily at a loss how to respond, rubbing one leg against the other. "Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Bring me back a souvenir," Naomi called as I stepped out of the grove, walking towards town.

It felt weird to be doing that while stark naked, my clothes discarded in favor of the rising warmth, but I reasoned that Leit Motif's chronic lack of clothing and Naomi not noting any on the mare she had seen meant that it was reasonably likely for that not to be a problem. If it wasn't, well, getting booked for public nudity was a bad way to start a trip, but I could think of worse. At the very least, my mane had been smoothed out by Naomi's patient hand, and my tail fell neatly behind me.

She really did like brushing me far too much.

The road beneath my hooves was easy to walk on, and even an easy trot was eating ground up. The anticipation of meeting others of my new kind was becoming overpowering. I'd only met one pony in my life and that one a child as strange as myself, so there could have been any number of cultural barriers or deadly _faux pases_ that were waiting for me to run headfirst into them.

Starting to regulate my breathing, I prepared for the inevitable introduction. I would approach a pony, introduce myself, and, calmly—

"Hello!" a voice called, cheerfully.

"_Agh!_" I screamed, springing up and spinning to face the owner of the voice. A unicorn, who stepped back a pace and stared at me, her golden eyes wide.

"Uh," she waved a mint-green leg in front of my face, "are you okay? Because, if you're not, I should warn you that I am _extremely_ not qualified to perform any medical aid."

I exhaled, slowly, putting a hoof to my chest. This was the first real, live pony I'd seen in eight years, so I looked her up and down as surreptitiously as I could. Her pale, almost white mane was cut short, like mine, though it ran a little long in the back. Also like mine, her tail hung long and had a bold arc that fell nearly to the earth, though with a little wave near the bottom mine did not have. She wore no clothing aside from a pair of saddlebags in white-and-gold lyre buckles.

"I… ah…" I murmured. "I'm sorry. Uh, hi."

"Hi." She sounded rather more uncertain now—though for someone who was probably half-convinced that I was crazy, she still wore a bemused grin. "Look, if you need a doctor I can—whoa, where'd your cutie mark go?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Hu-what?" I asked, and turned my head to follow her gaze. Her eyes were on my haunches, and I looked back at the same spot on her. A golden lyre was picked out against her coat, as if the hairs there had all been carefully and individually dyed.

"Cutie mark." She repeated the phrase as if it explained everything. My blank expression must have told her I was still having trouble, so she said again, more slowly, "Cu-tie mar-kuh—or, mark, whatever. You know. The thing on your butt that isn't your tail. Talent indicator. Tail accessorizer. Impending puberty warning sticker. Integrated conversation starter."

Apparently my first cultural barrier had something to do with a butt stamp. Grand.

"Oh, of course," I said, my brain on autopilot. "It was a prank, my friends picked up a spell and this was their idea of a 'good luck on your trip' gift. Haven't figured out how to undo it yet."

"Huh! That sounds kind of hilarious, actually. I should try that one sometime. I'm Lyra, by the way, nice to meet you! Where are you visiting from?"

Crap.

I searched my memory, trying to recall any place other than Ponyville. Concentrating on part of the area off the road, I conjured up another recollection. I blinked, and there they were, as if they really stood there.

Little Daphne walked with her arms out for balance, dirty bare feet on a log. "—so that's my dream house," she said, looking towards Leit Motif, the filly laying with her hooves crossed.

"One question: what's a spaceship?" Leit asked, lifting her ears in puzzlement.

"It's a ship." Little Daphne swooped her hand upwards. "That goes into space."

Leit tilted her head, trying to parse that one for a minute before giving up. "Well, _I_ would want to live in Canterlot. I'd live in my own castle right next to the Princess! It would have dragon guards, its own zoo—"

The image unraveled as I jerked my head back to Lyra, answering, "Canterlot."

"Oh, neat! I'm from Canterlot, too! Well, I got my degree there! Or, well, I attended Celestia's magic school there. Applied." She paused. "And crashed in the dorm. But, you know, Princess Celestia graduated me anyway. Where in Canterlot are you from?"

Double crap.

"Oh, I'm from near the school," I said, rather than trying to rely on memory again. Somehow, I didn't think a little filly's fantasy dream house would be all that informative.

"Whoa. And you're traveling like… this?" She motioned to my saddlebags. From the sounds of it, her estimation of me had either gone up a hair or dropped considerably.

"Yeah," I said carelessly. "My folks get really overprotective. Always want me to travel around with bags full of junk and not embarrass them."

Lyra sympathized. "Sounds like my roommate." I quietly exulted at being so on target as Lyra perked up suddenly. "Hey, maybe I could give a crack at that spell on your butt. I'm not the greatest at that sort of magic, but I did graduate and all."

I arched a brow. "The circumstances surrounding that graduation sounded a little fishy."

"Nonsense! I received my diploma from Celestia's own hoof—she recognized me purely on my academic antics. Merits. Academic merits."

"Well, okay!" I managed to keep my smile from turning sickly by sheer force of will. In being as helpful as possible, this mare kept finding ways to make my life more difficult. While I was curious to see unicorn magic in operation after Leit Motif's stories, I also didn't know what it might reveal—or if Lyra might turn me into a toad by accident.

To be entirely fair, I had no idea whether the truth of the matter would hurt or not—that I had no "cutie mark," whatever that was, or that I wasn't even a pony. It was a gamble, but more information was generally better than less. Besides, if I had gone haring off into a city back on Earth, it would have been suicidally optimistic to expect such a warm welcome.

Lyra focused her attention, and, to my amazement, her horn lit up. It was nothing at all like the magnesium flare of the wand I had seen in the woods, but a gentle, golden glow that encased the entire length of her spiraled alicorn. A similar aura touched my haunches, and I jumped a little at a tickling sensation that ran up my spine.

There was a hiss and a gentle pop, but all my coat did was bleach slightly for a moment before darkening again.

"Well, so much for that idea. I was hoping they'd just recolored your coat, which is exactly what I would have done and _have_ done in the past." Lyra pouted, but then she brightened. "You know who can help you, though? I'll bet anything Twilight Sparkle over in the library would know how. I don't think there's a single spell she hasn't been intimate with in the past."

I opened my mouth, but she waved a hoof, interrupting me. "Yeah, I know, she's a Princess now and all, but she's not going to turn anypony aside or stand on ceremony or whatever. If she'll see _me_ for random 'hellos,' she'll see you for a spell, no problem."

"Thanks!" I said quickly, starting to turn back to the road. "I'll go do that right away, Lyra. You've been a big help!" I started to trot, hoping to get away before she could ask any more inconvenient questions.

"No problem!" She waved. "Oh, hey, I didn't catch your name. Admittedly, you didn't throw it, so I don't think that's _really_ my fault, but I'd still like to hear it."

All right, so that wasn't a question, but it certainly was inconvenient.

It could have been answered with a made-up pony name, of course. Chances are, Lyra wouldn't have batted an eye at whatever mish-mash of terms I could have thrown at her—though I was displaying a disturbing talent of coming up with things she knew more about than I did. However, I already felt pretty bad for lying to her after she had been so nice to me.

Besides, my name is actually a thing.

"Daphne," I told her, giving her a friendly smile.

Okay, so "daphnes" are a kind of shrub, which is hardly the most glamorous of things, but whatever.

"Nice meeting you, Daphne! Good luck!" She waved her hoof even more enthusiastically. It seemed not everything had to go wrong for me.

With a new spring in my hooves, I headed towards town, though not before adjusting my borrowed saddlebags so they covered my rump. No sense inviting more scrutiny than I would doubtless already accrue. Determination and a sense of adventure set in, each carrying my steps to Ponyville.

It might be said that the most remarkable thing about Ponyville was how unremarkable it was. It was a perfectly normal town. Oh, certainly, its streets meandered along in the way one would expect an Old World village or ancient city-heart in Europe to, allergic to straight lines and relentlessly quaint, but that's what someone would expect from a country town in a place like this. It sprawled pretty far, but ponies were obviously used to walking long distances. They used the empty spaces creatively, filling them with gardens and trees. Indeed, the town had such a rural feel to it that I wondered if parts of it weren't more meadow than town. The occasional windmill or colorful tent was balanced by cheerful houses of thatched roofs and solid, sensible plaster.

I paused on a small footbridge, taking the sight in. The river under me ran right through the town, and I watched a boat pass underneath with a couple snuggled in the bow. Their little canoe passed by a pier, where a bulky pony in a shirt and straw hat fished with a line in the water.

Really, if it weren't for the cornucopia of colorful horses running the place, I might have thought that I had taken a sudden trip to a particularly rustic section of Germany.

If anything, the greatest shock was when I saw a trio of mares talking on the side of the road with a stallion. He was clearly distinguished from the female of the species by his slightly greater height and blockier appearance rather than his charcoal coat and white mohawk of a mane. Even this small sample of the population was more vibrantly colored than I had imagined; even after seeing Lyra, who was day to Leit Motif's night hues. The riot of colors was astounding.

When the stallion suddenly spread a pair of dark-feathered wings from his side, however, I stopped and stared. He gave them a beat and launched effortlessly into the air as easily as a pony might run across the road, and my jaw fell to the road. I had to pick it up with my hoof and reinsert it—_twice_—before I could get it to stop falling open. Within moments he was a dark speck, and he wasn't alone in the sky, either. Other winged ponies swooped and dived under the clouds as though they were born to the air. Perhaps they were, for that matter.

Leit Motif had mentioned pegasi, of course. I had remembered that as early as yesterday afternoon. Knowing on some level that they existed was one thing. _Seeing_ one soar through the air as easily as he pleased was another entirely.

Some of those girls he had been carousing with had neither wings nor horns, but the matter of pony breeds would be a question for another time.

There were enough identity issues on my plate already.

My hooves met dirt, packed smooth and hard by generations of ponies before me, and landed with satisfying clops. Hooves, both shod and unshod, clattered all around me. My ears were filled with the music of Equestria at work as I meandered through town—sometimes literally. At one cross avenue, a pair of ponies sang to one another as they painted a house, a mare's rich contralto danced around by a stallion's high tenor.

Unless there were a lot of pony songs about house painting, it was likely they were improvising the lyrics on the spot, too. Perhaps they were just talented. Regardless, I was glad of the decision not to bring Marcus and Naomi along. It wasn't so much that I was worried about how the ponies would react to them, though I still wanted to put feelers out and meet Leit without them being around.

No, after seeing this with my own eyes, I didn't think Naomi could have handled the raw cuteness that seeped from every corner without blowing her top.

Eventually, though, it became clear that I wasn't going to find Leit Motif wandering around at random. Even if I did go to every part of town, which could take me all day if not much, much longer, there must have been thousands of ponies here, each with his or her own distinct mix of colors and an identifying mark on their rears which seemed to indicate _something_ of note. Only some of the few foals I saw seemed to lack one. The chances of running into one particular pony out of so many were astronomical.

Just as I was considering the problem, one of those innumerable ponies noticed me. "Hey there!"

The voice from heaven nearly made me jump out of my skin. Panting, I glanced up to find the dark stallion from earlier looking right down at me. His wings beat a steady rhythm as he hovered effortlessly overhead, and I found myself staring yet again. A horse that must have weighed well over three hundred pounds was suspended directly overhead on wings that had a span of eight feet, if that. They were impressive on their own, certainly, but hardly enough to lift a creature that size.

Apparently he'd taken my gawking for interest, and soon alighted on the earth next to me. He stood himself to his full height, and I got to confirm first hand my observations. He had nearly half a foot of height on me, and his body was noticeably bulkier in most respects. Everything about him, from his shoulders, to his head, to his legs, was heavier, and that seemed to hold true with the other ponies passing in the street. Evidently, Equestrian mares and stallions had more sexual dimorphism going for them than the horses back home.

The stallion grinned as the silence dragged on. "You get the sun in your eyes or was that just me?"

Oh, great. I'd somehow run into Marcus' missing twin. To be fair, I had been sizing the stallion up like a piece of meat.

"I'm sorry." I half-lifted a hoof towards him apologetically. "I'm new in town, I, uh…" Well, I certainly had no intention of explaining to him that I had never seen an Equestrian stallion in my life before. "Hi." Well, it worked for Lyra.

"Hey. So, new-in-town," he tapped his chest, "pleasure to meet you. _I'm_ Thunderlane. I'm kind of the top weatherpony around here. See that beautiful sky? Yours truly."

"Daphne." I glanced upwards, frowning. It seemed like a normal, everyday sky to me—a nice blue with a few puffy white clouds here and there. My mind flashed back to the seemingly solid line of storm clouds outside the Everfree, wondering at the term "weatherpony" and what it entailed. It could have been some metaphorical way to say he was a forecaster, but that didn't seem to fit.

Glancing back at Thunderlane, I could see that he had a lot more going for him in the way of muscles than most of the other ponies around. They stood out under his charcoal coat and bunched powerfully at the joints of his second set of shoulders. If he was a weather magician of some sort, he sure worked out a lot on top of that.

"It's nice."

"Nice?" He glanced up as well, frowning. "Well, I'll admit it's no Rainbow Dash job, but still." He grinned back down at me. "I see you're a tough one to impress, though. I might have to really pull the stops out tomorrow—can't let you think we're slackers here in Ponyville."

I quirked a brow at him. "You don't happen to own a black jacket, do you?"

"Uh?" He rubbed his chin. "Well, not right _now_, but with Winterfall this close I could see myself getting one. Yeah, that could be pretty cool." He ruffled his feathers, lifting his chin.

It was only at that point that I realized he had been flirting with me the entire time. My eyes opened wider, and I took in his stance—leaning a little forward, his eyes intent on mine, face open and inviting. He was definitely making moves on the new girl in town. The notion that the local stallions may be interested in me had never once occurred before that point, and it was difficult to put a hoof down on how I felt about it. Perhaps if I spent enough time as a mare I might come to appreciate my new species, but that was a thought which was alarming on many levels.

Before I could really process an appropriate way to shoot him down, though, another figure swooped in. Like Thunderlane, she was a pegasus, but her coat was a dull lavender, and her mane was an upward shock of platinum white that flowed wildly down the back of her neck. "Thunderlane! What're you doing slacking off down here?" she demanded as she thrust herself up at him. She had that same lithe, muscled grace about her that seemed to indicate powerful athleticism.

"Cloudchaser!" Thunderlane backed away a step as his face reddened. He lifted a hoof defensively. "Now, now, I can explain! I was just welcoming, uhm… Daphne here to Ponyville!"

"You can flirt with cute blondes on your own time." She poked his chest, glaring him down. It wasn't hard for her—she was nearly his own height, if much more slender, and there was an air of ferocity about her. "We've got to pick up Rainbow Dash's slack."

Thunderlane grumbled. "I don't see why. It's not _my_ fault she's flown the coop."

"And it _will_ be your fault if we aren't ready in time for Winterfall!" She flared her periwinkle wings at him. "Now, get your butt back into the air."

Thunderlane continued to grumble as he leapt upwards, letting his wings carry him back into the sky. Cloudchaser turned toward me. "Sorry about that. He's a good guy, if a little cocky."

"It's okay. I know someone a lot like him." I rolled my eyes back towards the forest. I couldn't help adding, "I love your mane, by the way."

Cloudchaser grinned and tidied herself. "Hey, what can I say? Somepony's gotta be cool. Might as well be me." She turned and twitched her tail, gathering her legs to jump. "Enjoy the town, Daphne."

Her own rise made Thunderlane's seem clumsy—the difference between a powerful boxer and a martial artist. She swept her wings below her and glided into the air, flying with a swimmer's grace, all smooth lines.

Once I had finished admiring her flight, I kicked myself. "Damn it, Daphne. You forgot to ask them if they knew Leit Motif."

I would just have to keep looking.

Continuing down the street, my eyes wandered from the ponies I passed to the houses and stores. They were becoming denser as I meandered towards what seemed to be the center of town. Storefronts and quaint little alleyways were becoming the norm. One place had a wide set of double doors marked with enormous hoofprints—glancing inside, I could see a thriving restaurant, where the wait staff moved between tables with trays balanced on their backs.

It was as if I had stumbled into some bizarre _Animal Farm_ reality where ponies had risen up and conquered man. "Four legs good, two legs bad," I muttered under my breath. Of course, the horse didn't exactly have a happy ending in that story, so that probably wasn't the direction I wanted to start thinking.

There was enough different about Ponyville that it seemed unlikely—the width of stairs, the shape of doorknobs, and more—but there was an alarming concurrence to the architecture and lifestyles of these people that I was hard-pressed to find an explanation. After all, even on Earth, there were hundreds of cultures with wildly different styles of dress and building. Why should Equestria resemble a sort of European-pastiche?

I frowned, pausing by a fruit stand. Our worlds were synced up in some fashion. It was clear from those ancient scribbles we'd found on those thugs that humans and ponies did have some shared history. The possibility existed that western civilization had borrowed from the ponies rather than the other way around, or that there had been some sort of exchange.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I glanced up from my musings to see a couple looking at me. It may have been my reading too much into things, but it seemed to me that this pair were older than me by a fair margin—ten to twenty years, at least. There was a certain maturity to their features I had not seen on the other ponies I'd met.

The mare, a green pony with neither horn nor wings, smiled slightly. "Are you quite all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you." I offered her a smile in turn, glancing between her and the stallion. I did a double-take, staring at the prominent mustache and beard he wore on his solid, blocky face.

"Sure you're all right, miss?" he asked in an accent with more than a little twang. I was forced to amend my earlier thought—Equestria was not only synced with Europe, but with the American Southwest, as well. "You look a sight, you do."

I craned my neck around. It was still weird doing that—so much of my height was neck it was a little alarming at times. There wasn't really any need to examine myself. I was still exactly as trailworn as I had been upon meeting Lyra—no new bruises or cuts anywhere. "I just had a bad run is all. Got scratched up in the woods."

The stallion stared at me. "Celestia's teeth! You weren't in the Everfree, were you?"

"Look at her ankles." The mare pointed a hoof at my legs. "She looks like she's run for days! I think you sprained that rear one, too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but it was really minor—"

"Nonsense." The stallion shook his head. They closed in on either side of me. "Come on, little miss. We oughta get you to the hospital right away. You don't want that gettin' worse on you."

I raised my eyebrows. "There's a hospital here?"

"Sure enough," the stallion said. "Ponyville General, serves the whole region, it does. You must be new in town, right enough." The mare moved to support my sprained leg while the stallion half-hauled me.

"Gah!" I squirmed out of their grasp, turning to look at them with some surprise. "Grabby, much?"

"Aw, shucks, miss." The stallion stepped forward. "We don't mean nothin' by it. I can't very well stand the sight of an injured pony."

"You absolutely must get proper care!" the mare agreed. Her eyes watched me uncertainly, as if I might fall over at any minute.

"I'm okay! Seriously! I had a field dressing and, uh, I'm going to see someone who knows medicine." Thinking quickly, I added, "I don't suppose you know her, actually? Leit Motif? She's a mare my age, with a black mane and navy blue coat."

"No… can't say that I do." The mare frowned at her companion.

The stallion rubbed at his chin. "What's her cutie mark like?"

"Uh…"

"Well, it's all right. I'm sure you can find her. You just scooch on over to Sugar Cube Corner, miss. They'll set you straight, there."

"Sugar Cube Corner! Yes, of course." I gave them both a strained smile, nodding. "Uh… where can I find that?"

"Just take the tunnel here and head for the market." He gestured to his left, where a stairway descended through a tunnel under one of the larger buildings.

I nodded again, bidding the pair a "goodbye" before trotting through, my hooves echoing around me. These ponies were proving almost aggressively helpful—even a police officer back home wouldn't have batted an eye at someone with such minor battering. Actually, in all likelihood, they would have watched me more closely under suspicion of being a vagrant.

The tunnel exited into a wide, cobbled area, and I meandered among the shops and stalls. That I should have asked what "Sugar Cube Corner" was became increasingly evident. The fact that I couldn't read the signs left me with little recourse but to ask someone for directions, something I was feeling decidedly self-conscious about. It was getting to be a little oppressive in a way I had not anticipated—the ponies were nothing if not friendly, but my headlong rush for Leit Motif had stalled and left me rudderless.

Ponies wandered from stall to stall as the ponies inside them barked their wares, all in the growing shadow of a massive, circular building with a balcony on its second story. Turning to the stands, I considered a few of the options before stepping up to one that seemed particularly likely, joining its queue. Each of the ponies ahead of me dumped small, silvery coins onto the counter and came away with bulging bags. I stepped aside for an older stallion behind me and then took my turn at the front, hoping the proprietor wouldn't be too annoyed with a request for information without purchase.

"Shucks, sugarcube, you sure look as you could use a pick-me-up," the mare on the other side said, resting her forehooves against the stall's countertop and offering me a giant grin on her freckled orange face.

"Is it that bad?" I asked, pretending to be browsing the selection. I let another pony go ahead of me in line to make up for it. The variety of the dishes arrayed at the apple cart were mildly astounding, featuring not only raw apples, but racks of various apple-based pastries that were doing a number on my nose. My sweet tooth moaned and cursed my lack of local currency. It seemed a safe bet that this cart came from the orchard I had seen in my first glimpses of Ponyville.

"If'n you call lookin' like you just went through Apple Buckin' season without a wink 'bad,' well, I'd be inclined to call it that," she agreed, tapping her hat higher over her blond bangs. "Custom's appreciated," she asided to a pair of middle-aged mares who made away with a stack of apple tarts.

"So what can I do ya for?" she directed at me. "You look like a pony in need of somethin' special. Wait, lemme guess—fresh, hot apple cinnamon pie?"

My stomach growled, and I had to wipe my mouth with a foreleg to keep the drool from showing. "Ah-ah... while that sounds _utterly fantastic_, I was actually hoping if you could help me figure out how to find someone. Somepony, I mean. A friend of mine. I'm in town visiting."

"I thought you might've been new to town. You got that travelin' look about you," she said, and seemed genuinely excited to hear it, for all that I also admitted I wasn't a customer. The fact that I was letting other ponies through probably helped, but it was still oddly welcoming. "Wouldn't be no skin off my back to point you in the right direction. Who're you after then, sugarcube?"

"A unicorn, Leit Motif. Dark coat and mane, sort of a dark blue and black respectively," I answered.

"Can't say as I've met her, though I'm sure I remember a unicorn of that description," the mare said apologetically. Even as I started to deflate, however, she boldly tapped me on the chin with a hoof and grinned again. "But there's a pony in town who abso-posi-lutely has. You just scoot yourself on over to the building yonder that looks like a frosted cake and ask for Pinkie Pie. She knows everypony in town. 'Course, you stick around long enough, she's liable to find you anyway and throw you a party, so it's probably best you just go to her and get it over with nice and quick."

Turning my head, I saw what she meant immediately. At the far end of the market stood a confection disguising itself as a building—or perhaps the other way around, it was hard to be sure. I would have to see if anypony was nibbling on it. Turning back to thank the helpful mare, I found myself confronted with a steaming slice of pie. Gooey, baked apple oozed languidly out of a crisp crust onto a paper plate, and the smell of it nearly made me melt on the spot.

"Now don't you go thinkin' this is gonna be the norm. Pony like you looks like you deserve a break, and you can call it your official Applejack welcome-to-town-on-the-house slice. Further slices are, of course, available at a reasonable-like price," she said, beaming.

I stammered, unable to express my gratitude as she set it down. It was hard to resist simply devouring the slice on the spot—so I simply abandoned restraint and snarfed it right off the plate.

Wretched mare. She was a cocaine pusher. Now that I had been hooked on a free sample she could charge me whatever she damned well pleased, and I would come running for my fix.

"Whoo-ie!" she whooped and laughed, and several other ponies around me joined in as well.

I flushed, embarrassed, and then burped. "Pardon."

"And ye're welcome," she answered with a nod. "Healthy appetite, all right. You skedaddle on, now. Find your friend."

"I will, thank you," I said, and practically pranced across the cobbles of the market. Ponyville wasn't perfect—that probably would have required cell phone towers, a space elevator, or an armed regiment ready to help me take Amelia back—but it was definitely turning out to be a pleasant stop.

As I approached the giant cake-house, though, I had to abruptly skid to a stop, my hooves splayed. A mare had stopped dead in the middle of the street ahead of me, and I had very nearly ploughed full on into her, distracted as I was.

"Oh my gosh, _hi!_" she turned and greeted me, as though she couldn't be happier by our meeting. We could have been old friends reunited for the first time in years, as far as she was concerned.

"H-hi," I said, unable to match that level of enthusiasm even if I tried. It was enough of a shift from my meeting with Lyra and the stall owner—Applejack?—that it left me grinding a bit on the gears. Absorbing her presence was almost as difficult as Lyra's had been, and that had been my first time meeting another Equestrian in eight years. "Explosively pink" was probably the operating phrase. "Are you… Pinkie Pie?" I managed to ask after a moment.

"Sure am!" She threw her forelegs wide. "And you're _new_ in town! I know, because I know everypony in town, so if there's somepony in town I haven't met before then that means it's somepony new, otherwise I already would know them because anypony else in town is somepony I already know, seeing as how I know everypony."

"Pony." My eyes were crossing in the attempt to follow the line of conversation. When I shook my head, I could swear I heard something rattling in my skull.

"Exactly! So since we've established that I've never seen you before and that you're new in town, that means you've just made a brand new friend."

"I have?" I asked, startled. "Who?"

"Me, silly!" She giggled. "So what kind of party would you like? I'm totally getting into theme parties after my hit alicorn party last summer, you know, so I figured that'd be a sweet way to spice up my game! And everypony just loves my sweet and spicy lemon twists, so I always end up bringing those, too."

"Uh," I stammered, "Ha-Halloween's coming up, right? How's that for a theme?"

"Hollow Spleen, huh?" She looked puzzled, but quickly brightened. "I don't have any idea what that is, but I bet I can work with it! What do you do with a hollow spleen, and when does it come up?"

Smacking my face with a hoof, I cursed myself for letting her knock me so off-balance. To be entirely fair, though, she was liable to tilt the planet's axis if she tried hard enough. "I mean—costumes, candy. It's a tradition where I'm from, and—"

"Oh, Nightmare Night! You must come from a really cool place for it to be called Hollow Spleen—or really gross. Or really cool and gross. Kind of like a glazed cake you find forgotten in the back of the fridge and it's turned into a solid block of rock made of sugar."

It was hard not to be caught up in Pinkie's enthusiasm, and I found myself smiling almost against my will. "How about a Nightmare Night party, then?" I suggested, and she beamed right back at me.

"Done and done! So what's your name, newpony?" she asked, inspecting me with casual indifference to personal space.

"I'm Daphne." I kept my saddlebags planted firmly on my flanks in case she decided to peek. "I was actually hoping you could point me to someone I knew in town."

"Oh! You know someone in town? That's so neat. I bet you two must be great friends for you to walk all that way and end up with all those scrapes and bruises." Well, no wonder Applejack had singled me out as particularly trail-beat.

"Y-yeah. We are. I haven't seen her in a long time and, I…" I trailed off, realizing the other pony had started to draw me out. There was such a shine of innocence and such unconditional love and joy about her that I had felt comforted the moment I saw her. This was a pain that was very private, though, and this sweet mare would have to wait before I spilled any part of that on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. Her name is Leit Motif, and I've been looking for her for most of my life."

To her enormous credit, Pinkie Pie didn't press for more details. "Oh, that's easy. She's just ten houses down that way on the left." She pointed down one of the cozy side streets leading off the market. "You should probably go see her. I'll bet you two have loads of catching up to do if it's been that long."

"Thank you," I murmured in her general direction, already distracted. I paused to shake her hoof in gratitude, before turning and marching the way she'd indicated.

If anything, my steps were growing more tepid as my trepidation built. Eight years of separation, months of therapy, and years of burying myself in a safe, constructed world of conformity lay between us, all contained within a mere hundred or so yards of space. Each step failed to move me past any of that. In fact, it pushed it together more tightly, compressing that time and those feelings into a tight block of fear, pain, and regret. The block did not merely settle in my stomach. It took up shop and started to export itself to all parts of my body.

My legs felt numb, awkward and unfeeling, as they left the ground and returned to packed earth. My mouth dried, leaving me unable to ask anypony I saw for further direction. My ears flattened, dimming all sound. My eyes stung, and I had to rely on increasingly narrow tunnel vision as I studiously counted houses. If anypony stopped to ask if I needed help, I neither saw nor heard them, and, at that particular point in time, I certainly didn't care.

I must have walked in front of her house and her door six times before I was satisfied that I was at the right one. Counting nine houses and then ten, I then counted eleven to make sure that Pinkie had been inclusive with her count and not exclusive. It took three tries to confirm that building number eleven on the left was a store with a quill and a sofa on the sign.

Several minutes were needed to prevent myself from hyperventilating. Breathing in and out, I studied the thatch-roofed house, with a heart-shaped window cut into the front door and shrubs growing against the first floor walls. There was no way of knowing what I might find inside. Perhaps Leit Motif still lived with her parents—she was near the same age as me, after all, and ponies didn't age any faster or slower, as far as I knew. Maybe they married earlier, though, and she had a husband and little foals running around.

When I faced the door again and put into mind all of the memories I had of our time together, though, I felt something sharp and hot melt away the ice that had been flowing through my veins. It filled my limbs with strength again and lent me new sight. The susurrations of doubt burned up in the fire of my resolve.

I could have spent all day worrying and moaning and practicing greetings, but I wasn't going to let _one more second_ get between me and Leit Motif if I could help it.

I reached out with one hoof and knocked on her door.

**Leit Motif**

It was late.

Once again, I had slept in. An imprint of my pen remained against the side of my face, along with a fair portion of the words that had been inked. I lifted scroll and pen groggily to examine both critically.

One good vellum scroll, written upon which was a claim summarizing the damage done to Town Hall by a rampaging cave eel. It was mostly salvageable. Spilled ink blotted out most of the page and made the words worthless, but the material could be washed and saved.

One rare, griffon-constructed fountain pen, engraved with the maker's signature. Treacherous, but unharmed.

Finally, one mahogany writing desk, expertly crafted by local artisans. The finish would need to be stripped and reapplied, though the stop at the bottom had both prevented the ink from dripping onto the floor whilst simultaneously digging painfully into my neck. While massaging the soreness with a hoof, I discovered the final damage—myself. My hoof came back damp, and I sighed as my already inky-black mane drooped sadly, heavy and wet.

I went to all fours and lifted my horn. Magic shut the windows that had been left open overnight and stilled the wind that had been blowing the curtains. A cloth unfolded itself and mopped up the spill, then wrapped around my mane to keep it from dripping further. The pen's decorative holder was straightened. My forehoof tapped out a slow, steady beat on the hardwood as last night's open scrolls were carefully refurled and slotted.

The last thing my magic brought to me was a little, leather-bound journal, which I opened to a fresh page, noted the date with a flourish, and wrote, _Woke at around 1:20 in the afternoon, yet again failing to set alarm. Have to start last part of previous night's work again, but after I clean up the mess and bathe._ _Miss Rainbow Dash's latest foray into the field of being an act of nature will just have to wait. It's not as though she's around to answer for any of the damages this time, anyway._

Sadly, though, there was no writing somepony else up for my own mistakes. A mare just had to own up and do what had to be done. I dotted the last sentence particularly hard and set the diary aside before starting downstairs. Shelves lined with glass glowed in the subdued light that filtered in through the curtains. Resin, button, and painted eyes watched me as I worked my way down. I smiled and reached out a hoof to buff the head of the porcelain tiger guarding my tea set before opening the door to my bathroom.

A thought occurred as I scrubbed my face and mane out under the sink, and I stared at the big tub in the corner. To be able to soak all day instead of working would be very fine indeed. Just let the cramps and tension flow out into hot, sudsy water.

It couldn't hurt, really—not if it was just for a bit. My work wasn't going anywhere, and no pony had yet come running for an adjustment so far. Would one day out of the week really kill productivity that much? My hoof tapped at the sink.

In the end, the decision had not been all that difficult.

As the tub swelled with bubbles and steaming water, my anticipation grew. A tiny little spark of excitement dared to light. It was perhaps a little strange to feel a daring thrill at the thought of a day off, but I took what I could get. Not that it was _ever_ that easy. There would be a fire tomorrow, or Rainbow Dash would finally return with her entire extended family in tow and destroy the town. The office in Canterlot would find me dead, drowned in my own paperwork.

The weathermare was probably outside the window right now, waiting for me to lower my guard, so she could demolish all of Ponyville in some fantastic stunt. Just watching. All I had to do was put my little hooves into the tub, and I could kiss the town goodbye.

Then again, if Ponyville found itself carried off into the sky, it seemed doubtful anypony would be around to file a report for it. No more claims for disasters, be they natural, unnatural, or caused by mangy, colorful pegasi—the most unnatural of all.

One, two, three, and finally four hooves slid into the water, and I began to _melt_.

Just as a knock came at the front door.

"Dang it, dang it, dang it," I muttered, banging my head against the side of the tub a few times. For a moment, I considered the merits of simply ignoring the door and hoping whoever it was would just go away. Let them pound at my door. This was also the only chance I would have for _weeks_ to relax.

Perhaps it was good news, though. Perhaps somepony had found a baby dragon and needed me to take care of it for a little while until they could find a good adoptive parent. It would be nice to have someone sweet to dote on for a bit. I could scrub his little scales and tuck him in at night—until he got greedy, stole my figurines, ate my gems, and tore down my house in a horrific rampage that ended in the town being burned to the ground.

The knock came again, and I shouted, "Coming!" The hot soak, like the daydream about the dragon, had soured, no longer offering the comfort I had sought. Untempered joy head led to heartache, just as it always has.

Wrapped in a fluffy, blue robe, my mane dripping along my side and my tail dragging on the floor, I crossed the front room. Ideally, the interloper would see the state I was in and realize they'd inconvenienced me—a speckle of guilt never hurt anypony.

My hoof lay on the handle, and I eased the crankiness out of my features. The handle creaked, and I pulled the door in.

Standing on my front steps was a unicorn mare of my own age who looked rather the worse for wear. With untrimmed hooves and hair, red bruises under her tan coat, and the occasional freshly-healed cut, she looked as though she'd picked a fight with a bear and then spent a couple weeks recuperating in its cave. I actually felt a little petty, seeing how much she had evidently gone through to get here and finding me presented as I was.

The girl's green eyes widened, and she examined me as intently as I examined her. She ducked her head and rubbed her golden blond mane awkwardly, but when she brought herself up again her eyes had lit up. I was force to take back my assessment of her, seeing her in this new light. Joy turned her from weary and bedraggled to something beautiful, accented by the mess.

It was all so strangely familiar.

"H-hi," she said, swallowing slightly. The mare swayed a moment, seeming to be trying to gather herself up. "Hi, Leit Motif," she started again, and my brows knit slightly. There was something _important_ I was missing here.

Something…

"It… It's me… Daphne."

I slammed the door in her face.

That should have been the end of it. Naturally, given the course of my life, it was not.

It was proving increasingly difficult to block out her insistent pounding at my door. The mare—that _vile, evil _mare—was stronger than she looked, and her hooves rattled the door in its frame. As I lay across my sofa, staring at that door with stinging, bloodshot eyes, my forehoof tapped a sharp, staccato rhythm against the sofa's arm.

"...makes no sense," I muttered. "Was it Arregio? Cousin Bass? They always did think they were funny."

"H-hello? Leit Motif? It's me, Daphne. I need to talk to you!" _she_ called through the door. Her horn became visible in one of the windows, and I slammed the curtains shut with a flash of magic.

"...told them not to come around. They aren't _welcome_ anymore," I continued under my breath. Her hooves tapped against the window. I winced, and my hoof beat faster against the sofa, trying to figure out which member of my family had decided to play such a cruel and insidious prank. Charitably, they may have just been upset at my not returning their letters. I just needed to remain calm and not let them get a rise out of me.

My hoof tapped faster.

"Leit, please, tell me what's wrong!" her voice begged from outside. The mare's face stuck into another window, and I slammed that one shut, as well.

Then again, informing my parents in no uncertain terms never to darken my doorstep ever again may have triggered some resentment.

They might have simply told somepony else. Somepony simple and innocent, who would have no idea how much pain she was causing me with her prank. "Lyra!" I shouted. My voice cracked, painfully, but it got the message out. "If you're out there and you put her up to this, you had better come clean and apologize, or, _so help me_, I'll tell everypony who knocked down the south tower at school! I swear!"

The pony on the other side of the door hissed, and something hard slammed into the door. It sounded rather like her head, actually. "I could have asked _Lyra_ where to find you? _Damn it!_"

That was a little off-putting. Her... her... _vituperation_ continued sulphurously for a few more moments, too. That was language that just wasn't _used_ by civilized ponies, especially in public. I did not want to listen to her, regardless of whether she was cursing or singing, so I blocked it out.

The invader's damnable knocking didn't stop there, however. Pity, it would have been convenient if she had split her head—well, horrifying, actually. That's an awful thing to wish on anypony, even somepony so hurtful. There was no way I was going to try and confront her, not without somepony much bigger to help. Besides, the last thing I wanted was for somepony to see me upset at this—or worse, learn it had even happened. With her hammering and shouting, the latter was becoming nearly impossible, but acknowledging it would make it _exquisitely_ worse.

Rising from the couch, my hooves beat out a frustrated pattern on the flooring as I paced it. No pony had a right to violate my house like this, no pony but _me_ had a right to be in it at all if I didn't want them to be. In a house _I_ had built, filled with the things that _I_ loved and that _I_ had collected personally. How dare some wretched mare come and claim to be a part of _my_ life, a life _I_ had built for myself, free of _anypony _I didn't want in it. Least of all some mare who was probably put up to it by an embittered relative.

Her prattling and knocking about outside continued, growing more tenacious, and I started to look for something—_anything—_that could distract me until she gave up. My attention was taken up examining the parts of my collection I had on display in the living room. Though tempted, I left the minotaur swords where they hung against the wall and studied the craftsponyship of the zebra masks.

It was a little world of fascinating things that had been carefully constructed and assembled to please and amaze, each piece either unique or emblematic. So what if few ponies ever saw it except those rare friends and interested collectors I let in, past the inconspicuously blank exterior walls of my house? That made it all the more special. It was _my_ world, filled with _my_ things, and no pony should be allowed to intrude upon that.

"Look, I just want a minute!" she called, beating at the walls and my skull at the same time.

My eye twitched. I longed for something to put my hooves on, to busy myself with. My eye fell to the sofa's end table, where an exquisite little penguin and an artful purple glass pony—wearing a replica of Princess Twilight Sparkle's gala dress—lay, and I gently picked them up and handled them a bit.

A thought wriggled in through the barrier erected in my mind, the notion of playing a cute little scene out with the pair of them. A crystal Princess Twilight and her battle against the villainous Emperor Penguin, fought out over the enchanted pomegranates of—

_No,_ I told myself._ That's the sort of games foals would play. I am no longer a foal, and I haven't been since…_

Since _she_ failed to see me that day. Since _she_ broke her promise and left me on the river bank. Left me wanting until darkness fell, and I had to crawl back across the Everfree alone.

She broke my heart, like it was so much fine porcelain.

Whoever this _witch_ was, alarming persistence appeared to be a key personality trait of hers. "Please, Leit," she begged through one of the covered windows, her voice thick with emotion. "You have to believe it's me. I'm really here. I-I'm supposed to be a human, and I came through the Everfree Forest looking for you!"

"Anypony could have told you that!" I snapped, and heard a _clink_ as my hooves shook. I gasped and looked down with horror, checking over the figurines for damage. The penguin had a tiny little scratch on his beak from where I had tapped it against the glass fruit. _Damn it, these aren't toys_, I reminded myself. It had taken this mare all of five minutes to prove my incaution disastrous.

Now I was swearing, too. Fantastic. Just one more crack. Gently, I put the figurines back on the tablecloth, resolving to get my poor little bird re-painted as soon as possible. It was almost too much. Somehow, that monstrous creature outside had violated my home—had violated _me_—without so much as stepping inside.

With the curtains shut and the afternoon sun banished, my living room was suddenly a very dark and foreboding place. It was no longer the safe haven it once was, penetrated by that… that _thing's _shrieks.

Would that the tigers and dragons scattered about could come to life and defend my little home, but they were no more match for her than I. My home was supposed to be a safe place. It was supposed to be somewhere to take shelter from my life's tribulations, be they natural or pony-made. My hoof tapped hard against the floor as I stared blankly at the cabinets and walls surrounding me.

She pounded again.

"Just go away!" I shouted aimlessly. "I don't care who put you up to it, just… just go away, and leave me alone!" Another moment and I would be sobbing, so I ran for the stairwell, my hooves hammering along with my heart. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hearing me break down.

"Wait, I can prove it! Don't go!"

As I reached the stairs, a new sound reached me, one that cut through my panic like a knife. I stopped, and my ears swiveled towards the door.

Five bars. The mare on the other side was vocalizing; she was both terribly out of key and yet quite distinct.

_Impossible_, I thought, my heart catching in my throat._ No pony knows that melody._

It could have been a magic spell, considering the effect it had upon me. My legs were paralyzed. My eyes opened as wide as they could. The only thing that moved was a forehoof, tapping a beat faster and faster on the step.

Five bars again. The same ones, unmistakably. It was as though a key had turned in a latch. A vault opened in my mind, stirring ancient dust.

_Our_ melody.

On and on it went. She would hum the tune, stop, and then hum those bars again. It kept up for what felt like an eternity, but could only have been a few seconds at best.

It could have been a trick. Somepony had done the impossible and read my mind—except I had deliberately not thought about it for _years_. Some mad fool had leapt back through time—but to spy upon two little girls playing in a forest? It could have been a changeling, except there was simply no chance a changeling could have happened on such a thing, and would not one simply have taken her shape, instead of this bastardization?

There she went again, humming the same bars over and over again… Her voice squeaked painfully on the latest repetition. She was _atrocious_ at singing.

Just like…

There were little sobbing noises interspersed with the bars now, rendering them incomprehensible, but she kept trying anyway. It sounded like a heart breaking into little pieces.

Shattering like porcelain.

Somehow, the door was in front of me. A trembling hoof worked the handle. Just a peek wouldn't hurt.

She was sitting on my doorstep, her tears streaming openly down her face as she cried, eyes shut tightly, her head hung low. The sounds were no longer coherent through her wails. It was so raw that ponies all along the street were trying not to look, unable to even gaze upon such unfiltered suffering.

I could, though. I couldn't not.

My upraised forehoof, which had been tremblingly pattering out a rhythm on the wood of my door, felt still and silent. The stilling of that rhythm broke what little protection my thoughts had left. It no longer worked. I could no longer keep myself from hearing the similarities in her voice, from recognizing the color of her hair, from comprehending the unblemished longing on her face. No matter how hard I tried not to look, there she was.

Daphne.

_Daphne_.

"Daphne," I croaked.

She choked down her sobs. "Leit, I'm sorry."

My hooves went forward. They felt at her face, neck, chest, and barrel, making sure that she was _real_, that she was _there_. My magic flared, but no changeling was revealed under that skin. Daphne—her, it was really _her_—submitted to my examination. She practically slumped into a puddle right there, her forelegs heaving under her own weight.

"We were going to meet each other's families, remember?" she said, breathless. Her eyes pried themselves open, just a touch, and she looked at me. "We were going to be sisters together. I-I've come so _far. _Th-they made me leave, th-they... I-I'm so s-sorry for scaring you. I can't… I don't know what you've been through. Oh, Leit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Her own trembling hooves found me. It was like she didn't even know how to grip with them, the hard surfaces of her feet shaking as they awkwardly slid around me. Her saddlebags slid to the ground, and I found that her haunches were unmarked, like a foal who had grown into a mare without ever discovering her talent.

Unbidden and unstoppable, memories tore their way into the front of my mind. A little girl whose endless worlds of wonder had sucked me in day after day. A river bank where she spun tales and adventures with word and gesture. By some impossible happenstance she had been deposited here on my doorstep, beaten by things I knew not what, to come find _me_.

So many times before, Daphne had welcomed me into her worlds of imagination. It was only fair to take her into my world, to shelter her from the prying eyes outside. The door shut behind us with a flare of my horn, and, with a gentle click, the lock snapped shut.

* * *

For Daphne and Leit Motif, it has been 8 years.

Eight years of wondering, waiting, worrying. Eight years apart. Torn apart by fate, reunited by love. Neither of them thought they would ever see the other again, and yet here they are.

For me, this journey has always centered around these three people: Daphne, Leit Motif, and Amelia.

To a large degree, Amelia is an accident. As you'll come to see, she's the accidental fulcrum around which everything turns. The lever that moves the world.

It'll be up to Daphne and Leit Motif to turn it the right way.

As you can see, though, neither Daphne nor Leit Motif have escaped their childhoods without damage. They both need healing, and in order to heal they need one another... and perhaps a little something extra.

Next time, we'll see more of Leit Motif's perspective and come to understand the darkness that's settled in her heart. She'll think that this journey is all about helping her dearly beloved friend – her sister in soul – never realizing that it's about _her_, too, about finding out who she is, where she belongs, and what she can do to save herself and others.

For her, that journey began when a bedraggled mare knocked on her door. Where it ends, well... we'll see in time.

Also, hey, introducing our newest side character, Lyra! Hi Lyra!

Though it seems like Lyra is just passing through the story on her way to something else, you'll have to wait and see what that _something else_ is. She's the first real pony Daphne meets, and she'll come back in a big way.

Remember to check the original out at story/73404/through-the-well-of-pirene


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